Butane and Bullets
by DustyBullet
Summary: This is a Frerard My Chemical Romance fanfic set in 2001/2002 whilst the band is forming. Starts where the band did - 9/11, and charters the formation of the band, the recording of "Bullets..." and the developing relationship between Gerard and Frank.
1. And We All Fall Down

**Chapter 1 – And we all fall down**

Frank walked into the house, looking forward to some down time in his room with a CD blaring before some well deserved sleep. He'd just got in from doing the night shift at work so he was incredibly tired. And bored. Flipping burgers didn't exactly nourish the mind. His ears perked up at hearing his name, albeit spoken quietly from down the hallway.

"Frank."

Eyebrow quirking, he leant his head back to steal a glance through the window at the driveway he'd just walked up. Just one other car besides his own. The only person home was his mother. Sharing the same name as both his father and grandfather had led to the requirement of different nicknames over the years, so the fact that his mum had called him Frank rather than Frankie struck him as slightly odd.

"Mum? Did you mean me?"

"Frankie, come here."

That was a yes then. Oh hell, what had he done now? He wracked his brain for a second or two to try and remember if he'd done anything before going out that his mum would disapprove of. He didn't think so, actually. _For once._

"Mum, come on, I just got in. Can't I go make some breakfast first?" he whined, still standing just inside the front door of his family home.

"Frankie."

There was something in the way that his mother spoke his name that immediately put him on edge. She sounded weak, resigned and ... just sort of lost. _Fuck, what's happened?_ All traces of tiredness fled. That short walk through the hallway into the lounge caused the highest concentration of butterflies that Frank had ever experienced fluttering in his belly; even in comparison to stage fright. His mind was racing, desperately clutching at straws to find some sort of answer before his mother could give it to him. The options were all bad ones, and he started to feel sick as he dragged his rucksack on the floor behind him.

He hovered in the doorway to the lounge. Linda, his mother, was standing in the centre of the room and turned when she felt his presence. She gave the smallest smile at the corner of her mouth to try and put him more at ease.

"Mum, what's happened? Is Dad okay? ...Grandpa?" He gritted his teeth in anticipation of the answer.

"Oh, yes honey. Sorry. Yes, they're fine."

Frank exhaled shakily, and gave a similar half-smile to the one she'd given him, taking another step into the room now that the worst scenarios had been erased from his mind.

"Look" she said softly, turning once more and moved closer to where she'd been looking before he'd entered.

Stepping to the side, Frank realised she was looking at the television. He hadn't even realised it was turned on in all the worry. He looked then.

Smoke.

"Wha-" he began, but then quietened to listen to the news reporters and let his eyes wander over the flames and massive clouds of smoke apparently engulfing the top half of a skyscraper. The words weren't sinking in; gibberish with American accents. So he finished his question. "What happened? What's going on?"

Linda winced, but didn't turn. She realised she was gently going to have to explain to him what was going on.

"That's the World Trade Centre in Manhattan, honey. It got hit by a plane."

"A plane? What the fuck was a plane doing flying that low?"

Under normal circumstances she'd have berated him for his use of foul language, but these certainly weren't normal circumstances.

"No one knows, baby."

"Fuck... that's one crazy accident."

"Yeah, it is."

They stood in silence together for a couple of minutes, eyes never leaving the screen, and the words spoken by CNN reporters finally registering as the English language in Frank's ears. Eventually he spoke up again.

"So Dad's definitely okay?"

Frank's father didn't work in either of the towers obviously, but worked very close nearby.

"He hadn't even made it in to Manhattan yet. A colleague called him on his cell while he was still on the road. The boss had told John to pass on the message that your dad didn't have to come in after what's happened. So he's on his way home. He's safe."

Frank blew out another breath and repeated what she'd said.

"He's safe."

Nodding, Linda focused on the screen again. Sure, all three Franks in her life were safe. But how many other people did she know who commuted to Manhattan every day? She was soon going to have to face the fact that someone she knew might have been hurt in the accident. She doubted that had even crossed Frankie's mind, but she didn't want to bother him with that knowledge just yet.

Mentally, she sent a prayer for those still inside the building, and the other wives standing at home in front of the television set with far less certainty than herself that her husband was out of harm's way.

Frank shifted his weight from one foot to the other, at a loss of what to do or say. What had happened was tragic, and he knew that people wouldn't rest until the cause of the accident had been discovered. He was prepared not to see anything on TV or in the papers but the sight of that smoky building for a while. _Like I'm gonna forget it anytime soon anyway..._

He shuddered.

All of a sudden, any trace of calmness that resided in the room was ripped away. Whilst the voices of the news reporters were detailing the event over live footage of the smouldering building, another plane circled and smashed into the second tower.

Immediately Linda screamed and sank to the floor with her hands fisted in her hair. Letting go of the rucksack Frank was not even aware he had still been holding, he rushed to his mother, sliding onto his knees and encircling her with his arms. He turned her face inwards to his shoulder, his chin on her head so that he still had a clear view of the television set; a clear view of the carnage.

"Mum-" He wanted to tell her it was okay. However, he didn't want to lie.

She sobbed away into his shirt, and he let a tear slip down his own cheek as he watched the smoke and flame billow out of the gaping hole the aircraft had left in the side of the building. Wait; in _both_ buildings. _It wasn't an accident. _He realised in that moment that it was not in any way feasible that those planes had each crashed into one of the towers by accident. His blood ran cold and he ran his hands up and down his mother's arms.

"Mum." He spoke quietly into her ear as her chest heaved with difficult breaths. "Mum, I've got to go outside. ...Are you going to come?"

Her head moved in such a way that Frank assumed it was a nod, and he took her hand to help her to her feet. Wiping a hand under her eyes she nodded at him swiftly and motioned as if to tell him that she was okay, she would follow. He broke into a run and crashed out of the back door into the garden. His chest rose and fell heavily with the breathlessness of fear upon seeing whispers of smoke in the distance above his roof.

New Jersey is effectively just across the pond from Manhattan, so he and his neighbours in Belleville could just about see the destruction from their back yards. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his gaze, and he turned his head to meet the eyes of his asshole neighbour, who was also standing in his garden.

He was a haggard chubby man who always looked upon Frank with disgust. He'd often taken to calling Frank names when he saw him, disapproving of his tattoos, piercings and general appearance. Today the look Mr. Hubert gave him was exhausted and defeated in contrast to Frank's hyper-aware fearful expression. Silently, an understanding passed between them as their gazes returned to the horizon. Frank couldn't see too well given the positioning of the houses behind his and the tree at the bottom of their garden. He stood on tiptoes, straining this way and that to try and get a glimpse, just to make sure it wasn't a hoax.

"Hey pansy."

Frank didn't need to look to his left to know that it was Hubert who'd spoken, but he did so anyway. The term hadn't been spat with the usual malice or teamed with the disapproving sneer of the norm. Today it was just a harmless nickname spoken from a weary man. Plus Frank suspected that they guy didn't actually know his real name.

"Come on over here, you'll be able to see better."

Hopping over the short decorative white fencing Frank stood just to the side of his neighbour, fixing his eyes into the distance. And indeed, across the river he could clearly see the gigantic plume of dirty smog rising into the sky amongst the faint flickers of orange flame. One building was easier to see than the other; the other was simply a pillar of smog that you couldn't see past. If he could see – and faintly smell, he realised – the damage from that far away he daren't think what it must be like in the centre of Manhattan right at that moment.

They stood like that for a great deal of time, simply watching the cloud grow larger. Eventually his eyes flicked to the side and noted that Mr. Hubert's face was puffy and red around the eyes.

"Uhh... sir?"

The taller man regarded Frank with a level look. Frankie continued.

"Anyone you know in Manhattan right now?"

Hubert coughed once, before looking away from Frank's eyes. It was then that he answered.

"My wife works in the World Trade Centre."

Frank's throat caught on what felt like a knife, as he tried to find the next words to say to the man. Hubert sighed and relieved Frank before he had to.

"I'm so lucky, shrimp. She called in sick today."

The knife dislodged itself and Frank let his breath escape.

"She's in bed watching the TV right now, crying so hard she can't move except to vomit. All the people she knows and works with are in there. She can hardly stand it. I had to come outside because I'm just so glad she's home that I don't care about them right now."

"Frankie?"

He altered his gaze to look at his mum who'd finally made her way out of the house. Her voice was wary. She had a sneaking suspicion that Brian Hubert from next door didn't like Frank very much. She didn't have any proof, it was just motherly instinct. He and his wife were always perfectly pleasant to her though.

"It's okay, Mum. ...I can see the skyline better from here."

She smiled weakly at Mr. Hubert in response to Frank's reassurances, but simultaneously noticed the red around his eyes. In a rush the knowledge of Hubert's wife's profession came to the forefront of her mind, and Linda gasped whilst pressing a hand to her stomach.

"Brian, is Jessica-?"

"It's alright, Linda. She called in sick today."

"Oh thank God!"

"Yes indeed. Praise the Lord."

Frank merely raised an eyebrow at that one. _I know the guy is thankful his dame's still alive, but many others aren't. Why would God save his wife and not all the others? Why would God allow this to happen? _He wasn't especially religious himself, despite having attended a Catholic School. It was events like these that made him question why _anyone_ is. He took one last look at the harrowing sight along the horizon before nodding at Hubert and stepping back over the fence.

"One of the towers just fell to the ground" Linda informed them. "I guess the structure just couldn't support that much damage."

That explained the tower that was seemingly made of smoke. It actually wasn't standing anymore. _What is happening? _

After a few minutes of discussion between the two adults, Hubert bid his goodbyes to the two of them and ventured inside to undoubtedly console his wife. He told them before he left that they were welcome to go back into his yard if they wanted to take another look. As Frank nervously chewed on his lip ring he noticed his mother had an address book clutched in her hand. He merely looked from her hand to her face until she noticed.

"My mind's gone blank. I can't think whether we know anyone who might be..."

Their eyes met, shimmering slightly. They were upset at both the notion of losing someone they knew in the – he didn't want to say accident, but what other word was there at that point? – accident, and the idea that they might have forgotten someone who could be in certain danger at that very moment. Or worse.


	2. Emotional Checklist

**Chapter 2 – Emotional Checklist**

Standing in the garden Linda and Frank flicked through the address book together, making calls from his cell phone. Neither of them wanted to go back in to use the house phone where the television would be broadcasting death, despair and grief. They had to attend to their own before they could think of strangers. Between making calls they were also receiving them – people wanting to know whether the Iero family were okay, especially as they were ignoring the house phone indoors.

Just after taking one of those calls from one of Linda's relatives Frank Sr.'s car pulled into the driveway. He rushed out of the car in a sprint, leaving the door wide open and the engine running. He embraced his family between strong arms, gripping them to him as if he'd never let them leave. Tears flowed down all of their faces at that point, simply relieved that they had each other.

After some conversation and declarations of love, both Franks stepped into Mr. Hubert's yard and took another look together, the elder's arm slung across the shoulders of the younger in support. The cloud of smoke was now so large that Frankie didn't understand how it would ever disappear.

He supposed in some way, it never would. That cloud of rancid smog was a metaphor for the mist of terror that would remain among the nation and in some respects the world, for months and perhaps years to come. Eventually the three of them huddled together again and returned to the task of flicking through Linda's address book, swapping to using Frank Sr.'s phone.

They were lucky in that no one they knew collectively as a family had even been in New York when the two planes hit.

"I just need to call a couple of old buddies to check they're okay. All my other friends were either in that book or from work, so they're all fine" stated Frank Sr. "What about you Frankie? What about any of your friends?"

Frankie took a moment to think. His heart thrummed away in his chest as he clicked slowly through the contacts stored in his primitive cell phone. It was when he hit M that his heart skipped a moment. He forced himself to continue and check the remainder of the names before he let himself panic.

Coming back to that M, the knife of cut-throat emotion had wedged itself back to where it had been previously. M for Mikey. Mikey Way. He was a tall skinny kid a year older than Frankie. They'd become friends in the last few months when Mikey had come to some of Frank's band's shows. However it wasn't Mikey he was worried about. He knew for a fact that Mikey was due to hang out in Newark today with some friends, so he was safe. It was early; he probably hadn't even left the house yet.

However Mikey's older brother commuted into New York on the train for his job. Granted, Frank hadn't spoken to him that many times and he didn't even have the guy's cell number. Gerard was a bit of a hermit; locked himself away in his room a lot. But they'd hung out a little bit when Mikey had friends over and Gerard felt a bit more sociable. However he didn't care how well he did or didn't know Mikey's brother. He simply couldn't bear it if someone he knew had gotten into trouble near the site of the accident.

It wasn't just people within the building that were at risk, after all. He supposed that if you'd happened to be walking past as it occurred you might have been struck by falling debris, or if the police hadn't pushed the crowd back enough some people may have been hurt during the collapse of the tower his mother had mentioned. The whole thing was just too dangerous to assume that everyone outside the towers were okay.

The ordeal was so terrifying that Frankie knew he wouldn't wish it upon his worst enemies. Should the pricks that tormented and bullied him at school have been in the towers at the time he would have cried and mourned them as if they were his best friends. His heart thudded against his chest menacingly in fear of losing anyone that he knew, no matter how well. He gulped audibly, forcing that knife out of the way so that he could answer his father's question.

"Mikey's brother Gerard. I d- I don't know him that well, but I want to know if he's okay. I _need _to know he's okay. But I don't have his cell number or anything."

Linda stood beside Frankie and massaged the very tops of his arms in an attempt to comfort her son. Frank Sr. looked his son in the eyes and attempted to instil courage in him.

"Then you call Mikey, yes? I'm sure he'll know. Or else we can go and dig their home number out and contact their mother. We'll find out, Frankie. It's going to be okay."

It was only coming from his father's mouth at a time like this that Frankie would believe that was true. Those words from anyone else would have fallen flat. Frankie nodded, and hit the green call button and put his cell phone to his ear, once again chewing nervously on his lip ring.

The phone rang for a long time, the tone sharp and grating in Frank's ears, but Mikey picked up just as it was about to switch to voicemail. When Frank spoke his voice shook; he couldn't help it. He didn't say hello.

"Gerard."

"He's okay."

The air that escaped Frank's lips this time was not silent, as his throat let out a noise simultaneously. His relief was evident to both his parents in front of him and Mikey on the phone. He nodded absently at his father to clarify that Gerard was okay.

"He is?"

"He basically just got into New York when it happened. He saw it. He called Mum on his cell phone. It's fucking lucky really; he only got that phone like 3 days ago. If he hadn't we still wouldn't know that he's alright."

Mikey's voice wavered a little on the last sentence and it brought tears to Frank's eyes.

"Is he home?"

Mikey sighed.

"Not yet. I guess there's a lot of traffic and procedures and stuff. Don't even know if the trains would still be running or whatever; he could still be there." He paused, and Frank could hear his lips smacking as they pulled apart as if he was about to speak but then changed his mind. "No offence Frank, but why are you calling in the first place? You don't really know Gerard."

"No, I... I know that. But y'know, he's cool. What if I _want_ to know him? I don't want something to happen to him before I get the chance."

"Frank, I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry, Mikes, I understand." He shrugged even though he knew Mikey couldn't see it. "I _don't _really know Gerard. I just... I didn't want there to be anyone I knew in there. Or near there. Anyone, no matter how well I know them. Plus I wanted to make sure you were okay. I dread to think how you'd have handled it if something happened to him."

"Your dad wasn't there when it happened?"

"Someone called him while he was on the way. He's home. He's okay too."

As he spoke that last part he raised his arm up and gripped one of his dad's shoulders. Frank Sr. cupped Frankie's elbow in response, smiling sadly.

"Good. That's good." Mikey laughed softly, and Frank was grateful to hear a happier sound than that which had filled his ears since he'd got home. "What are you doing up anyway? You don't usually surface until at least noon. Parents wake you? Mum woke me."

"Ah" he smiled. "I'd just got home from working the night shift."

"You must be pretty tired."

He wasn't, until someone had pointed it out to him. The exhaustion, both physical and emotional, impacted like a brick wall against him. His eyes felt heavier than anvils and his heart even more so.

"I guess I am."

"Go get some sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah. ...Mikey?"

The voice on the end of the line simply hummed questioningly.

"Let me know when he gets back? Maybe I can come over or something."

"You're welcome over here anytime, buddy. I'll call you."

Frank hit the red button and shoved the phone into his pocket, collapsing into his dad's arms once again. Standing at 19 years old, he'd have been embarrassed on any normal day to be exchanging such physical displays of affection with his parents, but in light of the circumstances everyone understood that all bets were off. Linda came up behind Frankie and closed the wall of parent that encircled him. He sighed, content to be surrounded by his immediate family. He was desperate to see his grandfather as well, and would propose a visit the next day. However for now, as Mikey suggested, it was certainly time to sleep.

"You guys gonna be okay? I really need some sleep. Night shift 'n' all. Mikey's gonna call me when Gerard gets home. I don't know when that'll be."

His mother pressed her lips to his hair. He wore it in dreadlocks that she hated, but that day she didn't care as she inhaled against the odd smelling matted chunks of hair.

"That's fine, honey."

She turned Frankie away from his father's chest so that he was facing her. Using her index finger, she lifted his chin so that he was looking up at her, eyes like saucers. Her words were soft when she spoke.

"Let me tuck you in?"

Those eyes filled with the sheen of tears that he desperately tried to blink away as he nodded slowly. Wordlessly the three of them ascended the stairs. Frankie stripped himself of his greasy work uniform and climbed into bed clad just in his boxers, not giving a shit about modesty. Frank Sr. propped himself up in the doorway, letting his eyes appreciate the wonder that was his family. Linda fluffed up Frankie's pillows, his eyes on her all the while, and drew the duvet up to his chin. Her lips pressed against his forehead for slightly longer than seemed appropriate, and then spoke against his skin before she drew back and wiped away a tear, smiling.

"You will always be my baby."

His parents departed from the room hand in hand, closing the door softly behind them. Frankie let the tears run again, but didn't reach up to wipe them away. Nor did he turn onto his side the way he usually slept. He simply closed his eyes and went to sleep on his back the way his mother had left him, mentally berating himself for feeling so safe when the rest of America felt so lost.


	3. Screaming in Silence

**Chapter 3 – Screaming in silence**

Gerard opened the front door, knowing he had no reason to try and use the key. The house was already unlocked. Everyone was waiting for him. He wasn't sure whether to call out that he was home or not, and instead just stood awkwardly in the hallway after he'd shut the door behind him. It actually just felt nice to stand in silence for a couple of minutes. Outside the world was alive with noise. Sirens, screaming, crying, talking, transport, the honks of angry drivers trying to get home... the silence of the house was welcome and in turn welcoming. After a few minutes of alone time, Mikey popped his head round the corner of the lounge door.

"He's home!" he cried to everyone else, and rushed towards his brother. Immediately he drew him in with his arms, as Gerard rested his hands lightly on Mikey's back.

"How long have you been standing there? Why didn't you tell us you were back?"

Gerard simply shook his head, and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of family and familiarity. He felt his mother's hand snake its way into his hair, and leant into the touch appreciatively. When he opened his eyes again, he was faced with his mother's which were streaming with tears. Mikey stepped back and Donna practically fell into Gerard's arms.

"Whoa, mum!"

He had to adjust his stance to support her weight balancing precariously in his embrace, hands fisted in the shirt he'd put on to go to work that morning. She sobbed away into his clothing, and he shot Mikey a pleading look. Gerard had spent those precious minutes inside the door locking away his feelings so that he could deal with the situation at hand, but he still needed help. Because he'd fought to make himself feel numb, the emotion streaming from his mother seemed foreign, strange and altogether difficult to handle.

"Mikes. A little help."

Mikey helped prise Gerard's shirt out of Donna's hands, only for her to fling them around his neck instead, still sobbing. The two brother's eyes met above her head as they decided to shuffle her into the lounge. As her hands were locked in an iron vice behind his neck Gerard had to do most of the work, but Mikey put his arm around their mum and helped as best he could to manoeuvre her into the sitting room.

The second they got through the doorway Gerard's eyes lightened, and he had to fight to keep his emotion-block intact.

"Grandma."

Elena rose to her feet and advanced towards the two boys, eyes fixed firstly on her daughter.

"Donna, come on, let the boy sit down, won't you? We should be fussing round him not you" she chuckled. "Come here, come sit." Donna unlocked her hands from Gerard's neck and Elena took one of her daughter's arms before beckoning to Mikey. "Michael."

He came forward and helped set their mum down on the sofa where he passed her tissues and tried to help her compose herself. Once Donna was seated Elena turned to look at her eldest grandson. He stood awkwardly, arms hanging limply at his sides, embarrassed to have caused his mother to become so overwhelmed with emotion. He half expected Elena to grab hold of him and sob as well, but he swiftly realised she knew him better than that. Lost eyes searched hers. She nodded at him slowly, eyes glistening, and merely ran a soft palm across his cheek.

"Why don't you sit down, Gerard? You must be exhausted."

He knew she was right. The balls of his feet were throbbing from the walk home from Newark, but it was that very pain that he was holding onto. However everything else was so numb that it was nice to feel some sort of sensation, albeit a negative one. And so he remained.

"No, uhh, actually I'd rather stand. You sit though."

She did just that, and took one of Donna's hands in her own.

"Have you calmed down now?" she smiled at her daughter.

"Yes, I think so. Oh Gerard I'm so sorry. I'm just so glad that you're okay."

He shifted his weight to the other foot.

"Yeah, I know. I am okay though." His throat constricted right after he said it, but luckily no one noticed. "Do you think I need to call into work, or...?"

He worked as an intern at the Cartoon Network at that point in time. He got the train from Newark to New York every morning and this one was no exception besides the fact that he'd been told to go straight back.

"They know where you're travelling from, don't they?" asked Donna.

"They'd have to be living under a rock not to notice what's happening just down the street from them" Mikey snorted. "I'm pretty sure they get why you're not there, bro."

Gerard nodded, and the four of them fell into an uncomfortable silence. They all stared up at Gerard clad in black trousers, an ill-fitting jacket and his black and grey pinstriped shirt with the wet patch his mothers tears had created, internally thanking either God or luck that he'd gotten home safely. He soon regretted not taking his grandma's offer to sit. Standing made it even more obvious that he was the centre of attention. _She always did know best. _Eventually someone had to break the silence, and he decided it was best to take matters into his own hands rather than leave it to the mercy of emotion.

"Where's dad?"

It was his grandmother who answered. Donna and Mikey suddenly seemed to look down into their laps with shame; anywhere but at Gerard, which seemed strange in comparison with the intensity at which they'd both been gazing at him for the past few minutes.

"He went into work. Your father didn't see any reason to stick around once he knew you were safe."

To anyone else Donald's actions might have seemed callous and uncaring, but Gerard kind of wished that the rest of his family had been the same. He needed time before he could let his feelings run free again, whereas they immediately needed to base themselves around him in thankfulness. Not that he blamed them of course. Had it been Mikey hanging around in New York the morning something so horrific had happened he would currently be glued to his brother's side, unwilling to let him out of his sight. He shuddered briefly at the thought. Gerard was of the firm opinion that nothing should harm Mikey, ever, and it helped him realise that this was the way his family must also feel about him. However it still didn't stop the awkwardness.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began intricately examining his shoes – converse sneakers that didn't really fit with the rest of the baggy suit he was wearing.

"Darling, do you want to talk about what happened? Do you want to watch the news reports?"

Immediately Gerard raised his head and shook it vehemently.

"No."

"G, you know you should talk to someone. This morning must have been pretty traumatic for you" urged Mikey.

"Mikes, I'm really not up to it. Please. And no news reports. Not yet, while I'm around. I just want to go and get some rest if that's okay."

"Of course it's okay" answered Elena firmly, before either Gerard's mother or brother could protest.

Elena's word was final. It was an unwritten law in the Way family, but one they all abided to stringently. Gerard was simply thankful that she was on his side rather than ordering that he recount the tale to them all. Mikey and Donna forced smiles onto their faces, letting Gerard know that it was "okay" to retreat to his room.

"You wanna hang out later, bro? I think a couple of people wanna come over to see you" asked Mikey.

_Ugh. Of course they do. Any lick of impending tragedy and the sheep flock. _He supposed he shouldn't be so negative, and reasoned with himself that after some alone time he would be better equipped to handle both his own emotions and those of others. He lifted one corner of his mouth up in a weak smile and then spoke.

"Maybe. I just need to rest awhile, straighten my head out. Not truckloads of people though, yeah? Don't want to disappoint if I don't feel up to it later on."

"No way, just a couple, tops."

He nodded at them all sitting together on the sofa, and really did wonder why it was he standing calm and collected whilst they had to sit and fight not to break down to varying degrees. It all felt a little topsy-turvy. His grandmother wiped her first tear away from her eye as his mother spoke, voice shaky and tearful.

"I love you, Gerard."

He felt his heart twinge, in a pleasant way, but still wasn't ready for massive displays of affection, so he simply smiled timidly and returned the sentiment.

"Love you all. ...See you in a few hours."

His muscles relaxed the second he left the room. The atmosphere was far too heavy in there for him to sustain himself for too long. He descended the stairs to his room in the basement and was immediately glad for his surroundings. He closed his curtain, blocking out the single beam of sunlight that shone in – blocking out the confusion of the world if only for a few hours.

Gerard stripped himself of all clothing and left it in piles on the floor. He never slept naked; hated it in fact. But he didn't quite feel himself, somehow. He clambered into bed and curled the duvet around him like a cocoon. He wanted to feel invincible so that nothing could get in, nothing could hurt him. He willed himself to remain in a state of emotional numbness until he woke up. However when he closed his eyes he saw the two burning buildings towering above him etched onto the backs of his eyelids. He opened them again in fright, and let a shaky breath out into the air.

His throat constricted with the onslaught of emotion, remembering the pure stream of stranger's emotions that had assaulted him on the train home, the memory coming back to him however hard he willed it to remain at bay. It was too much to bear, too much to carry on his shoulders. Submerging his head under the covers he curled up even tighter into a ball, and wrapped his arms around his legs. Disgusted to feel skin he leapt out of the bed again, throwing on the nearest t-shirt he could find and digging out a pair of pyjama bottoms from a drawer. Standing in the centre of his room Gerard ran his fingers through his long knotty hair and held it against his jaw on both sides, squeezing his eyes shut as if it would stop the tears from coming. Of course it didn't. That image was still burned into his brain. When his eyelids were forced apart again by the wetness his bedroom swirled in a blur of salt water. He cried those tears upon his cheeks and wept for the smell of loss that had coated the air of New York City.


	4. Crying Rivers

**Chapter 4 – Crying rivers**

Frank strained to hear the movie that was still playing.

Eventually Mikey had called and invited him over. He'd been so excited to see Gerard alive and well that he'd driven the short distance rather than walked as he usually would. However when he got there Mikey had informed him that his older brother had gone to sleep. He had felt a little deflated but was quite happy to hang out until Gerard surfaced. He couldn't exactly protest and wake the guy up. His day had obviously been even more harrowing than the rest of them who'd only watched the events through a television screen. He'd seen it person. It was bound to have taken its toll.

Mrs. Way had told Frank that he was welcome to stay the night so he'd called his parents to let them know. On any normal day he might not have bothered to inform his family where he was unless they asked. He had a sneaking suspicion that he would be letting his parents keep tabs on him for a while.

In any case, Gerard had never emerged from the room he usually shared with his brother, and his Grandma Elena had instructed everyone to leave him to his own devices until he felt better equipped to be around others. Elena's word was law. Even he knew that. He felt kind of bad for Mikey though, being locked out of his own room all day. Luckily they'd found enough to occupy themselves with without having to disturb Gerard.

Now though, they were cramped up in the study. They'd piled it up with spare duvets and pillows so it was comfy enough, but during the spectacularly bad movie that they'd stuck on the TV Mikey had fallen asleep. Frank had turned the lights off and the volume down once he'd noticed so as not to disturb him, but now he could barely hear it himself.

In fact he realised absent-mindedly that he could hear the drone of another television. His heart jumped once and he wondered whether it was Gerard having finally emerged from the basement or another member of the Way family watching due to insomnia brought on by the day's events. Carefully he stood up and stepped over Mikey who was sprawled on the floor snoring softly at the foot of the desk. He was quiet when he closed the door behind him, and crept downstairs as silently as he could. When he reached the bottom, he walked towards the source of flashing blue light that was resonating from the lounge.

* * *

><p>Gerard had been awake for at least an hour, simply staring at the ceiling, willing the numbness to return. It hadn't. His heart seemed to ache with every beat, and his muscles felt heavy and weighed down on the bed. After breaking down and crying that afternoon he had eventually climbed back under the duvet with tears still streaming down his face until he fell into an uncomfortable sleep that was troubled by foggy dreams. He was still exhausted, but wanted to get up and have a stretch; at least go and make some coffee. However he still wasn't sure if he was ready to face the rest of the family.<p>

Turning his heavy head he regarded the clock, and decided that 1am should be a safe time to venture up into the actual house. His parents and grandma would no doubt be in bed at that hour. It was only Mikey he really had to worry about. He felt guilt lash at his conscience then. He and Mikey had shared the basement room throughout childhood and therefore his younger brother had actually been locked out of his own room for the entire day. Either he was still up waiting for Gerard to emerge and grant him entry or he'd bunked up on the sofa or in the study for the night. _Poor kid. I'll have to make it up to him tomorrow. _

He padded softly up the stairs and popped his head round the corner when he opened the door, just in case his family were all still up, caught in the throes of some post-tragedy insomnia epidemic. No one was awake downstairs anyway, so he closed the door behind him and made his way in the dark to the kitchen. He put the coffee maker on, having a craving for more than just instant. He debated simply leaning against the sideboard and staring down at the patterns on his pyjama bottoms whilst the coffee made itself, but there was a pull inside him that he couldn't ignore.

Digging the nails of one hand into his palm, Gerard went to sit in the lounge. He switched on the television, and once again his retina began to itch with the image that was presented. Keeping the remote in one hand he skipped from channel to channel watching the same image being presented by people with different voices. Distantly he listened to the reports of numbers presumed dead, details of the event itself, descriptions of the beginning of the clean-up, the numbers of police and fire-fighters that had been called to the scene, and that one word that chilled his blood; terrorists.

Terror was about right. Everyone was scared now, no matter what race or religion they were, no matter where they lived, who they were or whether they'd lost someone in the attack. That very transition from thinking about the event in terms of an attack rather than an accident was frightening in itself without his eyes being simultaneously raped by the images presented onscreen.

Gerard forgot all about the coffee machine, and simply sat, finger twitching over the change channel button, reliving the sight that he had seen earlier that day, desperately trying to understand why it had happened. This time he didn't even feel the tears when they began to run.

* * *

><p>Frank stood in the doorway and allowed his heart to soar at the sight of the back of Gerard's head. <em>Alive. <em>He was flicking from channel to channel on the TV. Of course it was no use; every channel was playing the same thing, over and over. Then again, he supposed that Gerard wasn't trying to escape the images or he wouldn't have turned the set on in the first place. He wasn't quite sure how to start conversation, so he merely stood there, leant in the doorway watching the images as they flicked by as Gerard controlled them. It made him want his parents close again, and he felt another pang in his heart born of his desire to see his grandfather ASAP.

Suddenly Gerard hit mute on the television set and rose from his seat, spinning to leave the room. However he hadn't been banking on Frank standing in the doorway. He almost jumped six foot in the air, and immediately Frank felt guilty for not speaking up sooner.

"Shit!"

Gerard's hand flew to his heart, which was now thrumming beneath his fingers. He knew he recognised the boy standing in the doorway, but he couldn't place the name. Mikey had had him over a few times, so he figured that's why he was here; to keep Mikey company whilst Gerard had locked himself away.

The kid looked guilty now, standing in the doorway shifting his weight from foot to foot. In the dull blue flashes Gerard could just about make out the embarrassed expression on the guy's face.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"A few minutes. I uhh, wasn't sure whether I should interrupt."

"Would have been better than scaring the shit outta me."

"Sorry."

The sheepish sincere manner in which the boy spoke the words made Gerard feel a little guilty. He tried to relax, taking his hand from his heart and running it through his hair instead.

"It's fine." His eyes flicked upwards once, as if staring through the ceiling, before settling back onto Frank. "Where's Mikey?"

"Asleep." When Gerard didn't reply, Frank elaborated. "He fell asleep in the study upstairs. We were watching a crappy movie. Your uhh, your mum said I could stay the night."

"Right. ...Well it was cool of you to come over to keep him company. I uhh, appreciate it."

The expression Gerard directed at the boy in the doorway couldn't exactly be called a smile, as he'd simply stretched his lips out into his cheeks, but he thought that his meaning was understood as the boy gave him a genuine smile, albeit a tired one.

"No problem." Frank pushed himself off the doorframe and stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, scarcely able to comprehend what he was about to say. "...I didn't come for Mikey though."

Gerard doubted that the boy could see the eyebrow that he'd raised in the dark, but he wasn't sure how else to respond. After a few more seconds of silence than was comfortable, Frank continued.

"I asked Mikey to give me a call when you got home."

"Why?"

Frank gulped nervously.

"I know you were in New York today. ...You're at the Cartoon Network right? That's not far from where the..." He trailed off, knowing that the two of them could respectively fill in the blanks. "I knew you were there, and called him this morning to check you were alright."

Gerard laughed softly into the darkness. Behind him, the television screen showered the viewers in fire.

"You're not understanding. You wanted to know I was home safe and that's why you called Mikey. That part's pretty simple. What I'm asking is why. _Why _did you wanna know I'm okay? I don't mean to be rude, but I don't even remember your name."

"It's Frank."

Frank. Of course.

"Yeah, well if you hadn't told me I probably wouldn't have ever remembered, _Frank_. So why did you care so bad to call Mikey?"

With the television still on mute, it was easy for Gerard to decipher the gulps emanating from Frank's throat as he grappled for an answer that would be understood. Then he laughed under his breath before informing Gerard, "Mikey asked that too."

"And you told him...?"

"...I just didn't want there to be anyone I know get hurt. No matter how well I know them." He sighed heavily. "The lady next door called in sick today. She worked in one of those towers that collapsed. A ton of people she walked past every day are now lying dead and buried under all that rubble. Friends, colleagues, acquaintances. Maybe even enemies. But she'll mourn them, all of them. Because no one deserved to die that way." He gulped audibly once more, glad that the darkness hid the tear that had just slipped down his cheek. "I didn't want _you_ to have died that way. I know we're not friends, and I'm sorry if this has made you uncomfortable. I just wanted to see you alive. ...I'll uhh..."

He turned to leave, heart still relieved despite the intense feeling of rejection he was experiencing. Gerard Way was still alive, and that's all that mattered.

"Wait."

When Frank turned his head back to the other man, he could see his outline shaking in the dull blue glow. When Gerard spoke again it was in a whisper.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I'm sorry." After an audible sniff and gulp, he spoke again, voice a little louder, but laden with emotion. "Stay."

A part of Frank wished to turn on the lights just so he could see the guy's face. The other part wished he'd turn off the television and just leave them in darkness. It was the middle ground that proved difficult.

"I don't mind leaving if it makes it easier for you. I won't be offended" Frank assured him.

"No, don't. I'm being a prick." Gerard tried on a chuckle, but it simply came out as a choked sob. "I'm acting like I'm the only one who's been hurt today."

"No you're not. You're acting like a guy who was in New York today. No one else in this house was. You're allowed to feel that way. ...Do you want to tell me about it?"

The question fell into the category of everything Gerard had been attempting to avoid since he'd got back into Jersey. But now he knew the time for avoidance was over. He wanted to be at least halfway stable when he saw Mikey, and that wasn't going to happen unless he spoke to someone soon. Although it pained him to do so he nodded his head slowly. Luckily Frank could just about make out the movement in the light from the TV. He smiled slightly and decided to take charge.

"Turn off the TV. We don't need that. _You_ can tell me."

Quirking his eyebrow, Gerard did as he'd been told, and immediately lost any and all approximation of where Frank was standing. He was expecting the light to flick on and reveal his tear streaked face at that point, so was surprised when he heard feet padding towards him in the dark. His heart jumped when Frank's hand tentatively touched his chest, feeling his surroundings. The hand stopped above his heart and rested there. Cheeks still wet Gerard slowly raised his own hand to lay upon the heart opposite. It was barely there a second before Frank threw his arms around Gerard and held him tightly in a hug, the sensation overwhelming in the absence of any other. Squeezing his eyes shut and letting the tears soak his face Gerard wrapped his arms around the shorter boy and dipped his head, sobbing into his shoulder. They stood for a minute simply holding each other until Gerard felt Frank's chest heaving with his own sadness. It simply served to release the floodgates on whatever sobs were being held back, and arms still locked around each other they fell to their knees, crying together.


	5. Talk to Me

**Chapter 5 – Talk to me**

Eventually, wiping away their respective tears, they laid side by side on the carpet, Gerard curling up and Frank stretching out. Frank was the one who spoke out first.

"Mikey said you went straight to bed."

"I went straight to my room and did that just there; cried. _Then_ I went to bed."

"Why did you run away from them; your family?"

Gerard hesitated before he gave his answer, mainly because he was searching for it.

"I don't really know. I wanted to be strong for them, let them know I was okay."

"I think you just worried them more, dude. Mikey was really scared. He said you barely spoke."

"It just didn't feel right, them all gathered round like that. It was too much too soon. ...I'll apologise tomorrow. Sit down and talk to them properly."

"I'm sure they'll understand. I do."

He couldn't see it, but Gerard turned his head to smile at him.

"Thanks, man."

The next time Frank spoke his voice was soft and tentative, unwilling to push for too much too fast. He couldn't bear it if Gerard ran from him as well.

"...Did you see them hit?"

The quiet was punctured by Gerard's sharp intake of break. The harrowing images fought to the forefront of his mind and he knew that this time he didn't have the luxury of suppressing them again. He let the breath out slowly before answering.

"No. It had already happened when I got there. We knew something had happened before we got off the train. People were receiving calls from home. My phone had no reception but I was listening in to other people's conversations. It was hard to make out the details but you could catch enough to know that something was seriously wrong. We got off at Hoboken and they wouldn't let us off the terminal. You could see it. So clearly. I mean it was just across the shortest part of the river. It just didn't feel real. I felt like I was in some sort of science fiction disaster movie."

"That's what it looked like on TV. If Mum hadn't been so scared when I got in from work I'd have just assumed it was a fucked up movie of some kind."

"It was so loud. Just noise. Noise everywhere." Gerard shook his head as if to dislodge the memory of sound from his ears. "People crying, getting hysterical, asking questions. The sirens. I was right at the edge of the railing, one of the people on the terminal closest. I mean, that train's supposed to run straight to the towers for fuck's sake. There were people standing behind me who had been on the train _on their way_ to fucking work."

"Fuck... That must have been difficult to hear. They must have been so worried."

It made Frank's little panic attack whilst scrolling through the contacts in his cell phone seem like a walk in the park.

"That wasn't the worst part."

Frank remained silent, simply waiting for Gerard to continue.

"I was there when the buildings went down."

"...I didn't see that happen. I was out in the yard looking at the skyline. I didn't realise until afterwards that one of the buildings I thought I was looking at was already a pile of rubble."

"_That's _when shit got worse. So many people behind me just erupted; so much emotion. The screams... I thought it had been noisy before, but it was nothing compared to the screams. And the sound of those buildings collapsing one after the other, floor after floor after floor... it was deafening, Frank. Being around that much emotion was physical painful. I felt so sick. Just bile in my throat that wouldn't wash away."

"Gerard..." Frank's arm reached wildly in the dark to grip Gerard's shoulder, who placed his hand atop the one holding him. He noticed absentmindedly that Frank smelt faintly of pot. It was oddly soothing and made him crave a smoke himself. "You must have been so fucking scared."

Gerard shook his head, noting that his eyes were still wet with emotion.

"Not for me. I was just scared for all the other people on the platform who had friends and family in there. There was one woman who ripped her wedding ring off and threw it into the river. She just kept calling this guy's cell, screaming every time it went to voicemail and trying again as if it would have changed."

"Office romance?"

"Most likely. And it _was _romance, for sure. It wasn't just fucking; not to her. She was destroyed, just praying he'd gotten out. It was people like her who I was afraid for. No one I knew was stuck in there, thank fuck. I was just standing by, witnessing the destruction."

The light flicked on and Frank squinted his eyes to adjust from the darkness, but Gerard blinked up with tearful orbs as if the room had been illuminated the whole time. Mikey was stood in the doorway, finger still on the switch, eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his brother and friend lying face to face on the carpet of their lounge, hands linked on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard shot up into a sitting position and opened his arms immediately.

"Mikes."

Not missing a beat Mikey came forward, dropping to his knees and into his brother's offered embrace. It brought a smile to Frank's face and another fresh batch of tears to his eyes when the Way brothers drew back and beckoned him into the hug as well. The three boys sat on the floor for a good number of minutes simply gripping each other and breathing in the scent of solidarity.

When they released each other sheepishly, Mikey began to ask about the day's events, and the two boys caught him up to speed until Gerard could no longer contain the apology that was threatening to burst out at the seams.

"Mikey, I'm so sorry about earlier. I was such a dick and none of you deserved that. You just wanted to know I was okay and I should have dealt with it better."

"No, bro. No. You were entitled to act however the fuck you want as long as you were alive. I'm just glad you could open up to someone" he said, casting a grateful grin in Frank's direction. "I don't care that it was none of us."

"Yeah." Gerard smiled. "I'm glad you were here, Frank. I only came upstairs to- ...fuck, I left the coffee on!"

He left the room in a whirlwind of pyjamas towards the kitchen and left Frank and Mikey laughing.

"I'm sorry for giving you a bit of a rough ride on the phone this afternoon. I'm really glad you came. He might've clammed up for weeks if you hadn't been here when he was ready to talk. Thanks Frank, honestly."

"No sweat, man. I was just in the right place at the right time. Like you guys I just wanted him to be alright."

"Well I really appreciate it."

When Gerard returned to the room he was concentrating on the three cups he had clutched between both hands.

"Frank, I didn't know what you drink so I made you a white coffee with one sugar. That okay?"

"That's great, but for uhh, for future notice though? Mine's a black with two." He winked up at Gerard as the mug transferred from one hand to the other, Gerard laughing nervously.

"Next time, huh?"

Mikey smiled to himself as he watched his brother's lips stretch into a toothy grin, a genuine one. Gerard had always been prone to bouts of depression. He suspected that this time Frank might cushion the blows if he stuck around.

Between sips of hot coffee the topic of conversation returned to the twin towers and the atmosphere once again grew sombre.

"How'd you get home, G?" Mikey asked.

Gerard inhaled in a measured manner as he remembered.

"They were shuttling people straight back on the trains for free. They just wanted to get people the fuck out of there I guess. The train ride was pretty crazy." No one else spoke, once again giving Gerard free reign to vent his emotions. "You could tell it had affected every single person on that train. No one came away nonchalantly, happy they didn't have to go to work or whatever. If I had to choose one word to describe the journey I'd probably say... evaluative."

"Evaluative?" Frank prompted, taking another sip from his cup and watching Gerard above the rim.

"Yeah. Like... just assessing what this means to everyone, both personally and on a wider scale. I mean you tell me, what _does_ this mean for America? The world, even? What the fuck does any of it mean?"

"To me it means 'be fucking afraid'..." Mikey put in.

"Exactly, right? Is the world just gonna be full of fear from now on? Like, okay, you hit the World Trade Centres. Where next?"

Frank gestured with his hand whilst finishing his mouthful of coffee.

"Did you hear they hit the pentagon too?"

"On the news reports I was watching before you came downstairs. You know what I mean, though? If people can orchestrate something like this doesn't it make you wonder what's gonna happen in the future; what else some terrorists decide to fuck up?"

The other two boys nodded solemnly, pensively gazing into their cups.

"That's not all people were talking about on the train though. Not just evaluating how the world will change, but how they_ themselves_ are gonna change. We were all so damn close to that destruction that I guess it sort of pounded home the idea that we _are _finite. I'm gonna die, you're gonna die Frank, and my little baby brother Mikey is gonna die. Now personally, it's not the dying part that I'm worried about. There's nothing I can do to change my death. ...But there _is _stuff I can change about my life. Like, what am I doing with my life right now, really? Tell 'im, Mikey. What is your big brother G doing with his life?"

Eyebrow raising anxiously, Mikey turned his head to Frank and answered the question, not really sure where this was going.

"My brother's currently an intern at Cartoon Network trying to get a cartoon commissioned."

"And what is this cartoon about, Michael? Tell the man."

"It's about...a monkey?"

Mikey was relieved that Frank's facial expression mirrored his own in its confusion and concern.

"Well done, Mikey, gold star. I'm trying to make a cartoon about a fucking monkey. Tell me how that will help anyone. Really. Because _I_ don't think that's fucking helping anything or anyone. I don't wanna be that way. I don't want my life and all my life's work to be fucking pointless and of no use to anybody. That's what it is right now, and I'm done with it."

"Gerard, you're a great artist, don't throw that away" Mikey cautioned.

"Yeah, man, I saw that comic you did. It was great." Frank added.

"Yeah. It's so great that they cancelled it after only two issues, and they didn't even get my fucking name right. I'm not sure if either of you have noticed but my name is _not _fucking Garry."

The other two erupted into giggles that they couldn't suppress quick enough. They didn't mean to laugh while Gerard was clearly trying to express something... but seriously; Garry.

"The number of people on that train who were already making drastic changes to their lives, or planning to, was just crazy. There were guys calling up their girlfriends and proposing. Others deciding that they were gonna get out of relationships that were making them miserable. People quitting their jobs... it was pretty inspirational. I walked home from Newark, just thinking. Thinking about how I've gotta change _my _life too."

"So you're gonna quit your job? Yeah, that seems like a real fucking good idea" stated Mikey, no longer laughing but voice dripping with acid sarcasm. "You're taking a step in the right direction by making yourself a bum, you go right ahead."

Gerard's eyes narrowed. Neither of them were really getting it. Mikey even less so. At least Frank was keeping any sarcastic comments to himself rather than tearing his epiphany down to the ground. However much he tried to explain it to them, they'd never _really _understand what it had been like to be on that train amongst so much personal revolution. Gerard didn't know exactly what he was going to do besides the fact that it _wasn't _what he was doing currently. A cartoon about a monkey was not gonna make a difference to people's lives. Now he just had to find something that would. He got to his feet.

"I think I'm gonna head back down and hit the hay. You're quite welcome to come back to your own room tonight if you want to; you too Frank, if you wanna grab the blankets and stuff."

Frank nodded, and noted that Mikey was still staring listlessly at the bottom of his mug. He stopped Gerard just as he was leaving the room.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Are you serious? About quitting your job and stuff?"

"Yeah, man. Fuck art." He seemed to mull that over, then, liking the way it tasted on his tongue. "Fuck art."

On that note he left, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Frank couldn't help but smile too, although he wasn't sure why, before turning his attention back to Mikey, who spoke without having to be asked.

"I'm not actually against it. I'm just worried that the backlash from this is gonna fuck up his future. If he leaves cartoon network now they'll probably never take him back. And I don't care what he says. He doesn't really mean it when he says 'fuck art'. He loves it. Everyone knows, everyone sees. He's a fucking genius. I just don't want him to waste it for nothing, you know?"

"Well..." Frank mused. "It might not be for nothing. He _is _a genius. So have some faith in whatever he comes up with next."

Mikey looked up into Frank's eyes then, and upon viewing the honesty that rested there, he decided that the younger boy was perhaps the wisest in this situation. ...How irritating. Frank tapped his arm then, before rising to his feet.

"Come on. Let's go clear up the study."


	6. Struggling Through

**Chapter 6 – Struggling through**

Frank picked up his house keys, deciding to walk rather than take the car, and locked the house behind him. He barely took a step before he halted in his tracks, eyes fixed ahead. His neighbour, Jessica Hubert, was standing at her car, keys shaking precariously in her fingers as she stretched her hand out towards the door.

Her head snapped up in an emotion akin to horror when she heard the Iero's front door click shut and was staring at Frank, frozen to the spot. She looked like death. Her eyes were shaky and bloodshot, accentuated by bruised blotches of tiredness. She was thinner than when he last saw her, clothes barely clinging to her jagged bones.

Jessica was a pleasant woman, far nicer than her husband had ever been to Frank. She was never seen without a smile; one of sincerity rather than false niceties. She always made a point to stop and ask what Frank was up to, even though he rarely had anything to update her with. Whenever he'd mention his band's latest show or song her enthusiastic nods would never fail to make him feel great about himself, and he truly believed that one day she would make it to a show to cheer him on like she kept telling him. It pained him to stare into the eyes of the woman before him and realise he could be looking at a completely different person. There was no glimmer of Jessica Hubert before him, just an empty shell.

Her mouth gaped slightly as if to speak, but she realised quickly that there were no words. Frank spoke instead.

"Mrs. Hubert?"

He heard her suck in a shaky breath as her eyes began to fill with tears. He spoke again, more gently.

"Jess, what are you doing?"

The tears began to stream then, aggravating her already puffy eyes, and the keys dropped from her hand.

"I was... I was going out. I've got to go out."

"Where's Hubert? I mean Brian" he corrected, remembering that he actually knew the guy's name now.

"Asleep. He's fast asleep. I had to leave while he was asleep."

"Why?"

She laughed then, not out of humour but hysterics. It was high-pitched and animalistic; anything but the woman who the voice belonged to.

"He won't let me go. He says I have to stay. I had to wait 'til he was asleep, Frankie, I had to wait."

He winced when she spoke his name and stepped over the tiny fence, scooping the car keys off the gravel, concealing them in his fist. He slid his other arm around his neighbour, and secured his hand over her waist, trying t o steady the taller woman.

"Jess, where are you trying to go?"

He knew he had to ask, even though he was 99% sure that he already knew the answer. She sobbed, and leaned into him more.

"I wanna go see. I need to go see it, Frank. Don't you understand?"

"I do..." he murmured, looking up into her tearful eyes and surprising himself to realise that he was being truthful. "Of course I understand. I'd be exactly the same. But they won't let you near it, Jess. There's police there every second to keep people away. ...Going to see won't help you. It's real whether you go or not."

She broke then, sobs tearing freely from her lips and her lungs. Feeling guilty and wondering whether he'd been too harsh Frank didn't know what else to do but to hang on for dear life.

"All my friends" she cried. "All my friends! My fucking office!"

He wasn't sure if he'd ever heard Jessica swear in his life, and it unnerved him, serving as another reminder of just how differently she was behaving.

"I know" he soothed, as she hooked her arms around his neck and dipped her head to rest it on his shoulder, instantly soaking the fabric. "I know."

"I was sick. I was too sick. Lucky to be sick. I was sick, and so I'm alive. ...They're not."

"I know."

He wasn't sure what else to say.

"Did you see?" she whispered. "Did you see my workplace fall to the ground?"

"Yeah I saw. I came out here and watched with your husband."

She mumbled then, eyebrows drawing together, some element of conscious thought seeping through.

"With Brian? But Brian ha-"

She stopped herself before she could finish the sentence, but Frank was already well aware how it was going to end. The suffix to that broken sentence was '-tes you'. Frankie had always suspected as much, and felt a little relieved to have these suspicions confirmed, even as he thought things might be different now after the events of the previous week.

It was now the 19th September, and everything was different. Sometimes it was hard to pinpoint what exactly had changed, sometimes just the atmosphere, but everyone could feel it to varying degrees. Hubert had always looked at Frank like he was scum, but that had been different whenever they'd spotted each other that week. Brian had even lifted his hand in a wave one time, and Frank had almost dropped dead from shock.

"Speaking of Brian... you should really go find him, Jess. You know you can't go into Manhattan yet. Not only will they not let you within an inch of the towers, but you're not _ready _to go."

"He's right" came the voice of Mr. Hubert standing in the open doorway of his house.

He looked dead on his feet as well. Frank figured that Hubert had been neglecting his own sleeping patterns whilst trying to prevent situations like this one.

Jessica immediately sobbed and fled Frank's arms in favour of her husband's.

"Honey, what did you think you were doing?" he asked, relieved that she'd been stopped before she could drive off.

Frank averted his eyes as if to imply leaving the two in private whilst they experienced this expressional exchange. He tried not to listen, singing a song in his head until he felt it polite to look again. Hubert simply nodded and turned, attempting to guide his wife back into the house.

"Hey!" Frank called, causing Hubert to turn his head. "Think fast!"

Frank released his neighbour's car keys from his fist and chucked them into Hubert's open palm. As his thick fingers curled over the metal, he smiled softly. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but Frank didn't fault him for this.

"Cheers, Pansy."

Now it was more a nickname than anything else, and Frank knew that the man's gratitude extended far beyond the act of returning the guy's car keys. Frank shrugged his shoulders lightly in response and set off down the road. It was simply a matter of the right place at the right time, once again.

He started off to the Way's house, again thankful that he had not experienced loss in the wake of what would come to be known simply as '9/11'. He was going to see Gerard today, if he had to fight his way into that fucking basement.

* * *

><p>Gerard would have walked out of the kitchen without even noticing Frank's presence unless he'd spoke.<p>

"Hey!"

He spun, full-sized carton of juice in one hand, seeing Frank sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, wigging his fingers in a wave, massive grin adorning his face.

"Oh, fuck. Hey Frank."

He was suddenly quite conscious of the fact that it was past midday and his dull auburn hair was greasy and hanging from his head in strands whilst he donned a terribly fashionable pyjama ensemble of sweatpants and a faded iron maiden shirt. And his feet were bare. He curled his toes as if he could hide them, and tried not to look as self-conscious as he felt.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Not much. I was supposed to be hanging with Mikey today, but he woke up late. I guess you already know that though" he chuckled, having forgotten momentarily that the two brothers shared a room. "He's just hopped in the bath."

His stomach had leapt when Gerard had stumbled sleepily into the room. He looked like shit, but it sort of suited him in a weird way. Frank could barely contain his happiness every time he remembered that Gerard could have been dead a week ago. It was bizarre to feel that much relief that someone he barely knew was alive, but he wasn't faulting it. Seeing Gerard alive made _him_ feel alive.

"The bath?"

"I know, right? He's keeping his company waiting in the first place so you'd think the dude would take a shower, but _nooo. _Bath time for Mikey Way."

Frank sipped at the pepsi he had resting on the counter and regarded Gerard who was shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, juice in one hand and the other one fisted tightly.

"You want a glass for that?" he asked, eyebrow quirking in an amused manner, twisting one of his dreads in his fingers.

Gerard's eyes darted from one of his hands to the other and shot back a timid smile.

"Nah, I'm alright."

He was terribly aware that in his left hand he held the antidepressant that he had yet to take that morning. That's why he'd come upstairs, to grab the juice to take the pill with. He was considering leaving it in the pocket of his sweatpants to take when Frank was gone. It would look shifty, but he was certainly considering it.

Frank's eyebrows drew closer together as he studied the older boy, taking another contemplative mouthful of the fizzy liquid.

"You okay, Gerard?"

"What?"

"You know what I mean. How are you coping?"

Frank hadn't really seen Gerard since the night they'd cried together, though that was not for lack of trying. Despite all his talk of striving to change his life and getting out of the basement, it was still where he'd spent practically all of his time, or so Mikey had told Frank. This was even truer considering that Gerard had indeed phoned in to work on the 12th September to announce that he was quitting.

Mikey still had work and college to attend, so that gave Gerard plenty of alone time during the day. He was generally in a better mood towards the evening, so that's when Mikey would hang with him. However this meant that whenever Frank had been over throughout the last week he'd been told that Gerard didn't want to see anyone. He'd tried his hardest to not take that personally. He was aware Gerard had been deeply affected by the events, both through what Gerard had told him in the darkness of his living room, and from what information Mikey had passed on since then. For example, when opening up to his parents, Gerard had admitted also witnessing the falling bodies of people who had leapt from the towers before the collapse. It had obviously made a deep impression upon him, making it even more crucial for Frank to obtain an honest answer.

"Umm, okay." Gerard mumbled, apparently refusing to elaborate further without prompting.

This seemed unusual to Frank. Despite Gerard's sad introverted demeanour, he was usually willing to talk at length when asked questions. Not today though, and Frank wanted to find out why.

"No way, man, you've gotta give me more than that. Have you even left that fucking basement in the last week?"

Gerard seemed to take stock then, mentally counting the days that had passed since he'd left the Cartoon Network.

"Well, no, but-"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. Frank jumped straight back into the role of speaker.

"That's unhealthy, man. You need to get out of this house occasionally, you know, get some fucking air? Some sunlight? You barely even _have_ a window in that cave. Some vitamin D would do you good." He paused then, considering. He spoke softer the next time. "...Do you need someone to go to the doctors with you? I'll go if you like. You know, for support."

It was Gerard's eyebrows that came together then, scrunching his face up in confusion.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Gerard... have you considered that you may have...like...depression or something?"

Gerard felt so tragic that he almost burst out laughing. He settled for a sad smile as he walked to the counter and stretched out his arm, opening his fist and letting the pill clatter onto the surface. Frank regarded the sight before him and looked up questioningly.

"What's this?"

"What it looks like." He coughed and examined his knuckle awkwardly as he elaborated, not wanting to look Frank in the eye. "I'm on antidepressants, Frank."

Frank stared at the capsule, blinking at it as the information began to register.

"So you... don't need to go to the doctor."

"No. They're probably sick of seeing my face actually."

"God. I'm sorry."

Gerard shook his head.

"No. You had no way of knowing. I asked Mikey not to tell anyone."

"Yeah, yeah, of course... How long?"

Gerard sighed and leant on the counter next to Frank, pushing the pill across the counter with one finger, sad eyes watching that rather than the boy stood next to him.

"Longer than since the 11th, if that's what you mean. Way longer. A few months I guess." He wiped his hand over his face before pinching the corner of each eye. "Too long."

"Gerard, I... I'm sorry."

"I'm not depressed because of you Frank, so cut that shit out right now" he snapped. "I'm not into sympathy, okay? I don't need it; not from you, not from anyone."

He looked up then, already realising how harsh his delivery had been. His face crumpled apologetically in the blink of an eye.

"I'm sorry."

Frank smiled with one half of his mouth.

"No, you're right. Sympathy won't help you get better. ...Can you tell me how you got depressed?"

"No." He laughed humourlessly. "Can't quite put my finger on it. I think I've always been depressed to some degree, you know? Just not enough to warrant medication until recently."

"How bad does it get?"

He smirked without a smile.

"Bad enough to warrant medication."

Frank narrowed his eyes and punched Gerard's shoulder none too lightly. The older man yelped and clutched his arm, eyes wide and mouth agape in outrage.

"Don't fucking do that, Gerard. You're not allowed to withdraw and run away, remember? Sure, sympathy won't help, but neither will hiding."

"Yeah, I remember. But punching me in the arm isn't exactly the best way to 'cheer me up'."

"So...?" Frank prompted, not bothering to apologise.

"So..." Gerard rolled a shoulder, relaxing so that he could speak honestly. "What do you want me to say? I admit, sometimes things get _really_ fucking bad. I've also got sedatives for night time 'cause I can't settle down... It's rad. I'm living the dream."

"Fuck... I don't know what to say."

Gerard waved one hand while scooping the pill up in the other.

"Don't say anything." He unscrewed the lid off the juice carton and washed down the medication, deciding that there was no need to delay now that Frank had found out. "I don't work right. The doctors gave me pills to help. Let's just leave it at that."

Frank chewed on the inner flesh of his upper lip to keep from arguing. _You work fine. You're just going through a tough time. ...You work fine. _Gerard's eyes flashed then, and a small genuine smile graced his round face.

"I'll tell you what to say, actually. You've come in here and you've been laying down the law, but why don't you ask me how I feel _now_? Not whether I've left the house or have to take pills to keep stable. Ask me how I actually feel."

Frank blinked. Then he complied, not wanting to relinquish the honest smile that lingered on Gerard's lips.

"...How do you feel, Gerard?"

One pair of hazel eyes smiled at the other pair of confused ones. The smiling ones belonged to the depressed boy, ironically enough.

"I've found something that helps. I've found what I'm gonna do instead of art."

Frank's eyebrow quirked. It had been just over a week since Gerard had announced he was changing the very fabric of his life, and Frank was sceptical that Gerard had managed to decipher this in such a short amount of time without even leaving the house. However he couldn't deny that he was intrigued.

"What?" he enquired.

Gerard smirked.

"Wanna see?"

Frank nodded in reply.

"Okay. But I don't want Mikes to find out just yet, so _you're-_" His fingers made air-quotation marks. "_-_going to put some music on while you wait for him. What are you into?" His eyes flitted quickly to Frank's shirt and back again. "Misfits? Wait here."

He ran down to his room and back again before Frank had any clue as to what was going on. Pinched between Gerard's fingers was a Misfits CD, which he immediately stuck in the lounge player and whacked the volume up. Frank's face epitomised confusion whilst Gerard realised that beckoning wasn't going to work. He grabbed the boy's arm and started pulling him towards the basement stairs until he got the point and started following obediently.

When they got into the Way brother's room, Frank closed the door behind him and heavily dropped himself down onto Mikey's bed. He immediately reached for a pillow to clutch onto, lying in prone position with his chin propped up on his hand.

He watched as Gerard tore around the room in search for something. He sifted through the papers littering the desk and finally seemed to have found what he was looking for. His eyes met Frank's nervously as he tossed the scrap of paper on the bed and turned again to get the final item.

Whilst in the lounge he had been eager, bursting to show someone what he'd done. However now that they were here and Frank's eyes were on him, he was still self-conscious about the way he looked, but even more self-conscious to be demonstrating to Frank what he'd been working on the entire week. He was so nervous he was shaking, and had the urge to take another blue. He fought it. There was no need to make himself look like an even bigger freak.

He was beginning to regret choosing Frank as the first person to witness his new project, but it was too late to take it back now. He took a deep breath as his fingers curled around the fret board of his acoustic guitar.


	7. Project Therapy

**Chapter 7 – Project Therapy**

_Gerard plays guitar?_

Frank had noticed the instrument sitting propped up in the corner of the basement the brothers had adopted as their room, but he wasn't aware that Gerard could actually use it. He knew Mikey could play a little, and had tried his hand at bass, but he hadn't known Gerard was musical in the slightest. Well, besides being obsessed with listening to it. Speaking of which, his mere ownership of a Misfits CD had increased Frank's respect for the guy ten-fold. He decided simply to voice the question that was swimming in his mind.

"You play guitar?"

Instead of taking a seat opposite on his bed, Gerard crossed his legs at the ankles and lowered himself into a seated position on the floor. He reached behind him to grab the crumpled piece of paper that he'd left on the bedspread and dumped it on the floor in front of him, splaying his slender fingers over it to flatten the creases as much as possible. He sniggered at Frank's question.

"Not according to my last band."

Frank laughed then.

"What, they kicked you out?"

"Yeah" grinned Gerard, cheeks bunched and teeth gleaming. "Legit. Who the hell wants to play Sweet Home Alabama anyway? It's a dumbass song."

"You must _really_ suck, that song's like crazy easy."

It was then that Gerard realised he was potentially scaring off his first listener by letting him know how terrible he was at guitar. However, in a move that only served to increase the nauseous feeling fluttering around in his stomach, he realised that not only was Frank going to be the first to hear Gerard's new venture, but Frank's band was already on a record label and were just about to release a full length album. In a way, it would be good to get the opinion of someone who was already in on the music biz, but on the other hand, Gerard wasn't entirely sure how he would approach the situation should that opinion be a negative one. Surely Frank, someone who had both played guitar and sang his heart out in a studio to make an _actual album_ would know far more about music than Gerard could even hope to comprehend?

_No. No, I am not losing this. Not before it's even begun. I'm gonna make him see, I'm gonna make him understand. _

His face lost all expression bar the hope in his eyes as he looked up at Frank, appealing to the boy's good nature. "...Just hear me out, okay? Please, Frank. I'm serious about this."

Frank's previously amused expression softened in the glow of silent hazel coloured pleas. He felt his mouth morph into a different sort of smile than he had been sporting seconds beforehand. It was empathetic, encouraging, and sort of apologetic. He berated himself for being so instantly judgemental, and cast his memory back into the days where he had needed to practically browbeat people into listening to him play guitar and had wished people would just take a chance. _Ah, who am I kidding? It's still like that. We may have an EP out, but it doesn't mean people are listening. _He would approach Gerard's idea with an open mind. He would instil in himself the faith that he had urged Mikey to adopt towards his brother's new project.

"Of course I'll listen. Take your time."

Gerard's eyes flashed with mixed emotions. Gratitude for Frank's willingness to potentially expose his ears to a horrific pile of crap. Fear, for he was about to reveal to someone else what he had thrown his heart, his very being into for the past week. Self-consciousness, because he _was _awful at guitar.

There was no time to dwell on it though. It was time to lay himself bare. He took one last look at Frank. His features were soft, dirty dreadlocks framing that angelic face. Gerard's stomach tripped once with a sensation he couldn't recall, and he took a deep breath, tucking his greasy hair out of the way behind his ears, lowering his eyes to the paper before him.

He felt around for the correct strings on the guitar, closing his aching fingers over them. He'd played so often this week that one of his digits had come up in blisters, baffled by all the string action in comparison to the lack of it in the months before. The niggling pain grounded him, as he fought for the courage to play the first note.

"Just for the record, I've imagined this on an electric. ...But all I've got is this acoustic."

"...Just play, Gerard."

His eyelids slipped forward briefly, cloaking him in darkness just long enough to gather himself, as his fingers started to pluck.

He played the introduction to the song well. Frank's ears were appreciative of the fluent string of notes, and he was unable to halt the smile from gracing his lips as he watched Gerard's face in its concentration. The music sounded interesting on an acoustic, but Frank's mind was already playing translator and imagining how it would sound on an electric. He got excited then, and his eyes widened just slightly in anticipation of the lyrics this artist had penned in accompaniment. There was a purposeful momentary pause in the music before Gerard opened his mouth to sing along. ...And that was where it all fell apart.

"You're not in this alone-"Gerard began, careful to project his voice rather than sing as quietly as his nerves wished him to.

His eyes danced nervously over the scrawled lyrics that he didn't yet know well enough to sing without having them in front of him, and his fingers misbehaved whilst they weren't being watched. One of them caught on the wrong string, making the next strum sound incredibly off. It distracted him, and he frowned, moving his eyes back to the instrument as he tried to put the problem right. However, when he continued playing to audibly inspect whether he had fixed the sound, he missed his own cue, and frantically grasped at the words with his mind.

"Let me-" the music paused awkwardly until his eyes flicked back to the fret board. "-break this awkward silence; let me go-".

His delivery was sharp, and the next short block of notes that he played were strong, intriguing Frank even further. However when he resumed singing, the seed of doubt that had settled in Frank's stomach only served to flower spectacularly. Gerard sang a whole line without noticing that his fingers had stopped playing the music.

"-go on record" he drew out the note slightly, getting too passionate about his delivery. "-and be the one to say I'm sorry. Hear me – oh shit."

His fingers fumbled, strumming against the wrong notes entirely, getting angry at himself and cursing under his breath as he struggled to find the rhythm again. It didn't come naturally when he played, so to lose it was a sure fire way to ruin his flow. The lyrics seemed to be involved in some sort of trade off with the music, unable to exist in cooperation. This led to a stilted rendition, as Gerard fought for the two elements to interact.

"-out. And if you take me... me down... or would you l-... lay me... for fuck's sake."

He stopped strumming then, and angrily tried to set his fingers up over the correct notes before he could start over. His shaky eyes flashed up to Frank's pinched expression involuntarily, but he looked away quickly, face flushing in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, let me just... let me start again."

Frank rubbed his hand over his face and held his lip ring between two fingers. His stomach fluttered as he watched the older boy fumble with the guitar, and braced for the reaction he was about to pull out of him.

"Gerard, stop a sec."

The struggle in Gerard's eyes as he looked up at the bed was positively heartbreaking. _I'm fucking this up. I'm fucking up, and Frank thinks I'm a fool for trying. _Gerard's heart contracted in his chest, embarrassment threatening to suffocate him. _I'm onto something with this, I know I am. If only I wasn't such a fucking spaz on guitar he might think so too. _

"Frank, I... I've been practising all week, I thought I had it down, just let me practise some more and then-"

The dreadlocked boy held up a hand as if to halt the other's words. It sort of irritated Gerard to see that Frank's face was kind, as usual, even when he was probably about to crush any hope he had left in his bones.

"You don't have to prove anything to me."

Gerard's jaw dropped, and he failed in reigning in his emotions.

"But I _want_ your opinion. I need someone to tell me I can do this." A sob he wasn't aware was lurking beneath the surface caught in his throat as he dropped his eyes to the floor, ashamed to admit to the tears that rippled his vision. "Frank, I fucking need this."

The image of that little red pill dancing across the counter top underneath a slender finger flirted with Frank's memory of Gerard's sobs against his shoulder in the dark. He refused to be another reason why he would swallow those pills or cry those tears. Not only that, but the song, when it wasn't stilted or falling apart through frustration, still sounded intriguing. Just because Gerard couldn't play it that well, it didn't mean that he hadn't created a kick-ass song. He just had to hear it properly before he could judge with any ounce of justification.

He relinquished his hold on the pillow, and dropped onto the floor, sitting directly in front of Gerard, who had one hand in his hair, and the other still clutching the neck of the guitar that balanced between his thighs. He folded one small hand over a pyjama-clad knee, and hunched over, angling his head as if to look up at the face of the boy opposite whose head was still hung low as he swallowed back frustrated sobs.

"Look, I've got an idea. You can play the song on guitar, yeah?"

Gerard lifted his face and nodded briefly, rubbing the back of his hand and his forearm over his eyes, irritated to be showing his weakness through tears once again.

"And you can sing it?"

"Well of course I can."

"You just have a problem doing both at the same time?"

"I guess" he mumbled.

"Then teach me how to play it" smiled Frank, relieving Gerard of the guitar. "You teach me the chords and the basic rhythm, and then we can take a listen to both at the same time."

Gerard watched as Frank dusted his fingers onto the right strings simply from memory, and was relieved to feel his lips stretch into his cheeks. It wasn't over, not yet.

When Frank looked up from the guitar smiling, Gerard felt his lips curve even further, revealing his small teeth.

"This is what you started on, right?"

And so Gerard taught Frank how to play the song, reaching over to press his own fingers to the strings rather than deciphering what notes they were. When he did so, Frank would find himself staring up into that eager round face rather than paying attention to what notes he needed to strum next. He could see how badly Gerard needed this song to be something special. Frank wanted it to be. He wanted the song to be the salvation Gerard was hoping for. He got the distinct impression that this little project was all or nothing. If it turned out to be fruitless, Gerard would be back at square one, alone in a basement with greasy hair that was screaming for a re-dye and bottles of pills to keep him both alive and asleep.

Gerard was happily irked to discover that he only needed to provide instruction the first time before Frank demonstrated that he could run through the whole song on his own. He was pleased that they didn't need to waste more precious seconds on practising, but a little upset that his own skills were not as polished. He could barely make it through the song without a mistake, and he wrote the fucking thing.

His heart swelled through that second run-through. He watched the boy's clever fingers tease music from the instrument, and was in awe not only of Frank but also of himself and what he'd managed to accomplish in one week. He wasn't the one playing it, but damn, he'd _created_ it. That collection of chords and rhythm would not have existed had it not been for the hours Gerard had spent working on it solitarily. When it ended, two sets of smiling hazel eyes greeted each other in unison. The air between them was electric, and neither could wait for the final run-through.

"You ready?" asked Frank, heart fluttering with excitement. When Gerard nodded, he replied in kind, moving his head up and down emphatically. "Sing with everything you've got, okay? Don't hold back. Sing it for the world, Gerard. Sing it for the world."

He didn't wait for a reply. He simply launched into the song with as much gusto as he could muster. It was the way he had always played, and hopefully always would. He lost himself in the music, brutally assaulting the strings without making a single mistake. Gerard was in awe; smile morphing into a smug grin as his cue grew near. When Gerard's voice accompanied him, elation spread through Frank like wildfire. The boy certainly was singing with everything he had, and Frankie opened his eyes simply to watch. The page of note paper was clutched firmly in his hand, but Gerard sang loud and proud, unafraid to open his mouth as wide as it would go to scream those words out. His eyes creased in emotion, and listening to the lyrics, Frank realised why. The song was about the previous week's events. The connotations were not direct and you'd need to have more info than just the lyrics to work it out, but Frank had access to that information and understood the real meaning behind every word.

"Tell me where we go from here..."

He drew the last note out as long as he could, unwilling for the collaboration to end. It left him breathless, chest heaving as he stared at Frank, whose breaths were also heavy from the exertion of playing so vigorously. They both wanted to speak, but weren't quite sure where to start. Instead, they remained where they were, breathing at each other, eyes tensely locked, with the distant thrashing of Misfits playing upstairs. Suddenly that thrashing grew louder as Mikey threw open the door at the top of the stairwell.

"Frank, you down here?" he yelled.

Frank's eyes widened immediately as he practically threw the guitar at Gerard. He was quickly becoming one of the people in the world Frank cared about the most. If he didn't want his little brother to find out just yet then Frank wasn't going to betray that. Not missing a beat, Gerard leapt to his feet to return the guitar to its original resting spot, stuffing the sheet of lyrics under his pillow.

"Yeah!" called Frank, eying Gerard to make sure the coast was clear before Mikey descended the stairs.

"Why the hell did you leave the music on upstairs?" Mikey asked as he entered the room swiftly, dropping his wet towel on his bed.

"To confuse the hell out of you" Gerard put in, standing awkwardly near his bed, not quite sure where to place himself. His grin was wide. "I see it worked."

Mikey scrunched his face up and flipped Gerard the bird, still smiling despite trying not to.

"Couldn't you have at least got dressed? We kind of have company. You could do with a shower too – look at your hair, I could make french-fries with that grease."

Under normal circumstances, that comment would have hurt him, lowering his already dismal self-esteem, however he was still too buzzed from hearing his song complete and all together.

"Ugh, _why?_" he groaned, in an over-dramatic teenage fashion that made them all smile. "I'm not even going anywhere today, give me a break."

Before he even registered what was happening, the words slipped from Frank's mouth and lingered between the trio.

"Yes you are."

"Oh?" enquired Gerard, eyes sceptical. "Where exactly am I going then?"

_Yeah, where? _ Frank asked himself. He listened as his voice answered the question, seemingly detached from it.

"My band is playing at the Loop Lounge tonight. I've just decided; you're both coming."


	8. The Wheels in Motion

**Chapter 8 – The wheels in motion**

When Mikey and Frank left the Way household to go and hang out like originally intended the first thing Gerard did was hop into the shower. Not only had Frank invited him and his brother out for the evening but he had now decided that he had another reason to leave the house, and therefore needed to look healthy enough to be seen in public. He scrubbed away at his 200 pound frame hastily, not daring to look down and survey the damage, instead paying more attention to massaging the grease from his hair. Mikey was right; it was definitely in need of another dye job. The bright red that had stained it all through art school had faded to a washed-out auburn and he was flashing a good deal of his natural colour at the roots. He didn't have the time to worry about that though, and besides, he didn't even have any spare dye lying around the place. The split tips of his hair just tickled his shoulders, and as he stepped out of the shower he parted it messily with his fingers.

Once dry, he slipped his thick legs into dark blue jeans and pulled on an iron maiden shirt. Deciding that he didn't need to keep it for best now that he'd quit Cartoon Network, he also shrugged into his suit jacket, and swiped up both his guitar and lyrics. Place to go; person to see. He jogged up the stairs and swung into the kitchen, finding that he wasn't alone.

"Afternoon, Gerard" chuckled Elena. "Can I make you some lunch, darling? You must be starving."

"I was just on my way out, actually" he told her, whilst immediately folding her into a one-armed hug, the other hand still curled around the neck of his guitar.

It wasn't unusual to find his grandmother lurking around the place. She didn't live there, but she owned a key and practically came and went as she pleased, so he wasn't at all surprised to see her. Of course she'd been sticking very close after the events of the previous week, and had appointed herself as Gerard's faithful guard dog against the hoards of visitors who had attempted to visit after finding out about his brush with tragedy.

She knew him better than almost anyone, and was all too aware that too many visitors would have driven him even further around the bend. Gerard was appreciative of that fact. No one argued with Elena, and thus she was the best person to take on that job on his behalf. She patted his back affectionately, and smiled as his hair tickled her nose, yet didn't brush it away.

"You should still eat, dear. You're a growing lad."

He laughed shortly.

"Yeah, well. I'm growing a little too _much _nowadays, hey, Grandma? You should really stop feeding my comfort-eating habit, you know."

He let go of her then, still smiling lightly as he stepped back.

"It's the only way a Grandmother knows."

"That's not true and you know it. You've been an angel this past week, stopping everyone flocking to pinch my chubby survivor's cheeks. Mum wouldn't have been strong enough to send them away. ...I'm assuming you've kept her and Dad off my back, too?"

Elena sighed.

"Your mother would have smothered you if I'd let her check on you as often as she wished. She loves you, Gerard. We all do. Some of us just don't understand when to give you some space" she chuckled.

"Like I said. You've been an angel."

They stood silent and smiling a moment.

"It's nice to see you with your guitar, Gerard. I won't keep you. Go run along."

"I'll see you later."

He kissed her on the cheek tenderly, and managed to put his hand on the door handle before he turned back on impulse.

"...Nanna?"

She hummed questioningly, eyes untroubled in the light of his apparent good mood.

"Has Frank called for me this week?"

"Frank." She spoke the name tentatively. "The boy with the knotty hair?"

"Dreadlocks, Nanna" he laughed. "The one who just left with Mikey."

"Oh goodness, yes! Seems like he's been here as much as I have. We'll have to have a chat with Michael if he's irritating you."

"What do you mean?" Gerard asked, attempting to ignore the knotting of his stomach and lessen the widening of his eyes in anticipation.

"Well!" she huffed. "He called round twice asking to see you specifically. After that it felt like he was here every day to play with Mikey. He even stayed for dinner one night. I suppose he was hoping you were going to eat with us. And this is without factoring in all the phone calls!" She shook her head, but not in an exasperated manner. "He simply wouldn't relent. He was very polite, mind you. He seems like quite a nice boy despite his incessant enquiries."

"...Frank was here every day?"

"More or less" she laughed lightly.

The smile crept onto his face before he was fully aware of it, and he only realised it was there because his Grandmother's mouth seemed to mimic his own. His cheeks flushed slightly before he could halt them, and was struck dumb in the face of his embarrassment.

"...Shall I not send him away next time, dear?" prompted Elena gently.

He coughed once, as if the blush could be shaken by clearing his throat. The smile remained.

"Umm... yeah. I mean, even if I'm still in bed, or you haven't seen me yet... just send him on down. I'll sure tell him where to go if I'm not up to it. ...Promise."

She simply nodded, and turned around to bustle about the kitchen and save him from any further embarrassment. He was grateful, and physically shook his head, unable to prevent his grin from expanding. This time he didn't turn when he opened the door; simply paused.

"Thanks."

"Have fun, sweetheart" she called just before he shut the door behind him.

She remained smiling long after Gerard had left the house.

He knocked on Otter's door.

Otter (christened Matt Pelissier) was Gerard's older friend; an experienced drummer who had done the rounds throughout many of NJ's well-known local bands. _Just the guy for the job. _He opened his door, shirtless and sleepy. He was immediately greeted by Gerard's toothy grin. Instead of chewing him out like he'd originally planned to do to whomever dared darken his doorway, Matt threw his arm around Gerard's shoulders and led him into the house. He seriously doubted that anyone could turn the guy away; especially when he flashed those gleaming gnashers.

"You alright, little man?"

Gerard was extremely conscious of how _not _little he was, but seeing as it was coming out of Matt's mouth, he wasn't particularly fazed. They'd been friends a good couple of years; Otter knew about Gerard's depression and everything in between.

"Sure thing, man. You only just up?"

"I'm gonna stop you before you start. You rarely even make it out of your crypt, so don't give me shit for having me a nice lie in" he smiled down at his friend.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Leading Gerard over to the fridge, he unhooked his arm from the younger man long enough to swipe two cans from the fridge, and then he replaced his arm straight back and meandered over to the couch, where they sank into the cushions.

Gerard set his guitar against the side of the sofa and didn't think twice when Matt handed him a beer. He was absolutely in the mood for a drink, despite the time. He was 90% sure he was going to have to audition himself for the second time that day, and could do with a little extra courage, seeing as Frank had sapped it all. He didn't need quite the same amount of balls to play to Otter, thankfully. He popped the beer open.

"To what-" Matt began, leaning over to tap his can to Gerard's "-do I owe the phenomenal pleasure?"

"Oooh, that's a tough one." Gerard took a sip, appreciating the metallic tang. "I'm gonna go with...progression."

"Interesting choice. What sort of progression are we talking here, Way?"

"Progression of my life; a new direction. A lot's changed since last we spoke."

"Yeah, I've aged, for one. You ain't been around in forever, G, where you been?"

Gerard laughed then, and set his beer down, mouth pursing in an eager smile.

"Working on a kick-ass project."

"Too busy to come and see your old buddy, Matt? Oh I see how it is, man, I see how it is."

"Sorry, dude. Top secret stuff, you know? Couldn't let it taste daylight until the world was ready to handle it."

"Alright, alright. I'll bite." Otter placed his beer beside Gerard's and turned on the sofa, perching his chin in his hand as he smiled at his friend, intrigued. "Whatcha got, kid?"

Gerard bit that bullet, hard and with confidence.

"We're starting a band, Otter. You and me."

"Aww, no way" Matt grinned. "You've got in on the music scene? I'm positively psyched right now. Are we gonna sing songs about hungry monkeys?"

He may have been taking the piss, but he was genuinely excited by this revelation. It was the very nature of their friendship to have a bit of a laugh at the other's expense, which is why he couldn't help but turn it into a joke. However he promptly changed tact when he noticed a muscle in Gerard's cheek twitch, lessening the intensity of his smile and dulling the glow of his eyes. He cupped Gerard's elbow with his other hand, and adjusted his own smile to a softer level. Although they liked a bit of banter here and there, he was still aware that Gerard had severe emotional issues, so he had become incredibly mindful of when to back off.

"I'm kidding. I'm in."

"Fuck you." Gerard mumbled sourly. "You don't need to do that just to spare my feelings, Otter."

"Oh shut up. I'm not playing full-time with anyone right now, so why wouldn't I say yes?"

"Because you've never even heard me play before?"

"Look. G. You're a cool dude; if you tell me this project is kick-ass then I'm still gonna assume you're being modest."

Gerard cast his eyes back upwards then, letting go of the lint that he'd been rolling through his fingers in mild frustration.

"And anyway, I'm not so tired that I didn't notice that guitar you had in your grubby little hand."

The younger man couldn't help his smile from returning then, and reached for the battered acoustic. He'd been given the instrument for his 10th birthday, so it had done well to survive 14 years of lying beaten up in the corner of the basement. Mikey had played on it more than he had, most notably using it to try out for Frank's band when they were starting up. ...He hadn't made it.

Gerard attributed that to the guitar. _Who the fuck wouldn't want Mikey? _He made a mental note to invest in a new one ASAP, just in case it held some curse that would prevent his new project from getting off the ground.

"You gonna serenade me, baby?" teased Matt.

"Only if you want me to."

Otter pushed himself off the back cushion then, and settled into a cross-legged pose instead. He let all jokes fall to the wayside. His voice was encouraging and genuine when he spoke again.

"Absolutely. I wanna see what you've got cookin' inside that red head of yours."

"It's not so red nowadays..." Gerard trailed off, running his fingers through the still damp aforementioned hair. "Need to do something with it really."

"Well it can wait. You need to play me this song first. I take it that's what's going down; you've already got an idea?"

"Yeah. I played it to Frank this morning." He decided to elaborate in response to Matt's blank stare. "Frank from Pencey?"

"Oh, Pencey Prep? Yeah, I've caught them a couple of times. Decent band. What is he; the singer?"

"And guitarist. He plays real good actually; he helped me out this morning. He really liked it; the song. I mean, if you're not so hot on it I don't really mind as long as you're willing to work with me."

"Absolutely. I'm always up for starting a band up, G, you should know that."

"I do. That's why I came straight here." He grinned. Otter was smiling back, but didn't speak again, simply waiting patiently. He took a deep breath. "Okay. But you've gotta bare with me, Otter, 'cause I'm pretty shit. Frank had to take over guitar earlier because I was so bad."

"Didn't even know you guys were tight."

It took Gerard a second to formulate an answer to that one, running his digits lightly along the guitar strings as he remembered Frank's tattooed fingers dance both delicately and brutally over them. His actions whilst playing had somehow been both erratic and precise, meshing two elements that should naturally repel each other. It fascinated him. _Frank _fascinated him; how he'd seemed to have developed a natural interest in whether Gerard was alive or not.

It felt nice to realise he'd made a new friend. That hadn't happened in a while. ...It felt more than nice. His mouth lifted up at one corner involuntarily, and his eyes softened.

"Yeah... neither did I."

"I don't believe this. Otter... Matt. This is incredible."

Matt was standing in the doorway, simply watching his friend. He liked to think that it was more than mere coincidence that Gerard had turned up on this particular day. Absently scratching his chest he watched as Gerard's eyes bulged and he span slowly on the spot, appreciating every corner of the room.

He'd been so tired when Gerard had arrived because he hadn't gotten to bed until the early hours of the morning. He'd been finishing this room, the attic. He'd painted the walls a cool dark blue the previous week, and he'd spent the previous night decking it out in new furniture, and had transferred his drum kit up there along with a tonne of old recording equipment that he'd had in storage. After Gerard had played him an admittedly stilted rendition of his song, he couldn't resist bringing him up there.

"You've made a fucking recording studio."

"Don't get too excited, kid. The equipment's not great. ...In fact it's pretty shoddy."

"Better than anything I've got lying around! This is awesome, man, seriously."

"So, you up for doing some shitty recordings on my shitty equipment sometime next week?"

Gerard turned and smiled.

"...We need a guitarist, don't we?"

Matt folded his arms, and lifted his leg, leaning against the wall with his knee out. He tilted his head as he considered, pleased that the issue was being discussed without Gerard seeming upset.

"Well that's got a lot to do with what you wanna do with this. If this is just for fun and you just wanna make a few crappy recordings then we can just do it over and over until you nail the track. Not a problem."

Gerard paced as he mulled the idea over, arms folded as he simultaneously continued to scope out the room. However when his eyes fixated on the large window, his face fell carefully blank, and he padded towards the glass in silence. Otter looked between the boy and the window in confusion until he worked out what Gerard was so fascinated by. Kicking off the wall he also made his way over to the window, and stared out.

They stood in silence to begin with, as Otter waited for Gerard to continue the conversation. That answer never came, so he moved closer, and covered Gerard's shoulder with his arm, tipping him to rest against his side.

"I tried to call" he murmured, looking down at Gerard's mop of hair. "Mikey said you weren't to be disturbed. ...Granny's orders apparently."

Gerard coughed out a short humourless laugh, thinking again of Frank. He lifted his own arm to clutch onto his friend.

"Don't worry; you're not the only one who got turned away."

He didn't look at his friend as he spoke but remained staring out of the window as he had done so many times before. Pre-studio-makeover Matt's attic had essentially been another lounge where would invite friends to hang out, watch movies and get drunk. Gerard had often spent most of those evenings stood there, gazing out of this window, eyes twinkling with the glow of the city lights. Previously he had been unable to shift his gaze for the hope that the view gave him. The loft window provided a perfect portrait of New York; the city where Gerard had believed all of his dreams would come true.

Now he looked at what was once his favourite view and felt dead inside. The skyline was wrong. All wrong. If he didn't know any better, he'd have sworn that he could almost see the outline where the two buildings should still be. Inwardly he battled and scraped to prevent the memories from regurgitating all over Matt's freshly laid carpet.

"How are you coping?" asked Matt.

Gerard slowly shook his head wordlessly as if to halt that particular line of conversation. In response, Otter briefly laid his chin on Gerard's scalp and pulled him tighter, before withdrawing and giving the boy a little longer to adjust to the view.

Coughing lightly under his breath before he began, Gerard decided to pick up the conversation where he had left it.

"So... we need a guitarist."

Matt felt the grin tug at his mouth.

"You're serious then? ...What about your monkey and shit?"

That was his way of casually asking Gerard whether he was sure about giving up his career in art.

"That's just what it is, Otter. Shit. As much as I love that fucking monkey, he's not gonna help anyone out. And that's what I wanna do."

"Then we do need a guitarist. No offence, buddy, but you can't shred."

Gerard turned then, and grimaced at him. Otter flashed his best grin and elaborated.

"Your voice is ace though."

Gerard's eyebrow quirked. However he did so in simple query rather than scepticism.

"Legit, man. Don't get me wrong, you ain't no opera singer, but you've got a certain something, you know? And your lyrics kick all manner of ass."

The two simply smiled at each other for a beat. Gerard was ecstatic that he had friends who truly believed he could do something like this. That was two people now. He was 100% sure that his Grandma would have his back no matter what he did, and so would Mikey when Gerard plucked up the courage to tell him about it... eventually.


	9. Bottles in the Club

**Chapter 9 – Bottles in the Club**

It wasn't a bad turnout all in all. There were about 100 people packed into the loop lounge discounting the members of the bands playing that night; pretty much half-full. It wasn't their best turn-out, but it certainly wasn't their worst. Frank finished tuning his guitar for the first song and then set it down with care before hopping off the stage. All it took was a hop; it was less of a stage and more of a small platform.

He'd noticed the Way brothers arrive - accompanied by A. N. Other - when they had just started setting up. He had been almost certain of Mikey's attendance. The specs balancing precariously on the tip of his nose were very deceiving; the kid was quite the partier when you let him loose. Gerard on the other hand, he had not been so sure about. The guy was a hermit at the best of times, let alone a week after he witnessed a fucking building go down in flames. But here he was, laughing easily with his companions and sipping on a beer. Impressed, Frank made his way over to the bar where the three men were perched.

"Hey" he smiled as the brothers turned.

"Yo, Frankie!" exclaimed Mikey, immediately shooting for a high-five. Frank obliged and turned his eyes to the older brother.

"Hey. Wasn't sure you'd be up to coming out."

He was astonished to notice that although Gerard's hair remained unkempt and messy, it had definitely been washed and no longer hung in front of his face in greasy strands.

"Well. Surprise" he grinned. "So what's the set-up here anyway? You get free drinks while you play?"

Frank almost let loose a belly laugh, but compromised with a small giggle as he plucked Gerard's beer from his unsuspecting hand and took a gulp.

"You kidding? Our fee just about covers enough for one round for the whole band. This place doesn't rake in enough to give us freebies. And we ain't big-time enough to have riders yet, unfortunately." Eyes wide and smiling, he took another gulp of beer before handing the glass back, half depleted. "One day, though. One day."

Gerard held the glass up, and eyed the remaining contents in amusement.

"You want one?"

"Don't mess with my heart."

The two brothers laughed, and Gerard shook his head.

"I'm not. Promise. Do you want one?" he reiterated.

Gerard almost jumped out of his skin when one arm heavily leant on one of his shoulders, the owner's other arm slumped on Frank. Gerard was on the receiving end of a mildly apologetic toothy grin before the offending face turned that grin onto the other boy he had a hold of.

"What's this, Frankie? You found a nice strapping young man to supply us with a drink?"

Incredibly entertained by the irritation on Frank's face as he tried to communicate silently to his band-mate, Gerard felt a tad braver than usual, and confident that his wallet was deep enough, answered the question himself.

"He has, actually."

"Ace." The guy let go of Frank entirely now, and shifted his body so that Gerard was the only person in his line of sight. "I'm Hambone." They swiftly shook hands.

"I'm Gerard."

"It's an absolute pleasure, Gerard. But I've got to go finish setting up. Cheers for the drink."

As quickly as the guy had appeared, he was gone again. As Gerard repeatedly blinked, and attempted to process what had just happened, Frank splayed his fingers so that he could peek out whilst still covering his face in embarrassment. Mikey was laughing.

"I am so sorry about that" whined Frank, elongating the pause between each word.

Gerard remained silent for another moment or two, before simply asking:

"Hambone?"

"Don't even ask. He's one of my oldest friends; you'll have to excuse him." Frank extended an arm and laid his palm on Gerard's forearm. "You don't – you don't actually have to buy these drinks."

"No, I'm happy to. How many dudes in the band?"

"What?" Every feature on Frank's face gaped in surprise. "I'm not telling you that. You are _not_ buying drinks for our whole band; are you insane!"

"Maybe" Gerard smiled easily, before bypassing Frank entirely and looking past him to his brother. "Mikey, how many guys are there in Pencey?"

The blonde brother spoke before Frank had time to spin and clamp his hand over that thin mouth.

"5 including Frankie here. I'll take another if you're offering, too."

As Gerard nodded, Frank folded his arms against his chest in protest.

"Have mine, Mikes. I'm not drinking it."

"Oh, Frank, don't be so melodramatic" laughed Gerard as he extracted his wallet from a tight pocket. "Do you want a choice in beer or not?"

Resigning himself, Frank's tattooed arms dropped to his sides and he mumbled his request, eliciting a wide grin from Gerard as he ordered drinks for the band and top-ups for everyone else. He turned to his right and stood back a little, gesturing Otter into Frank's line of sight.

"I forgot; you guys haven't met. This is _my_ friend with the weird nickname. Frank, this is Otter. And Otter-"

"This is Frank from Pencey. I gathered, babe. You alright, bud?" Matt asked, leaning across Gerard to shake Frank's hand briskly.

"Nice to meet you."

Gerard paid for the hefty order of drinks and clasped a glass in each palm, lifting his eyes to Frank.

"A little help, drama queen?"

Scooping up the rest of the drinks, Frank slowly led Gerard through the crowd, weaving throughout the small groups of people.

"G, you really didn't have to. I mean... I know you quit your job. And you need to save all your money for your band when you get it together."

"Here you go, guys."

Ignoring Frank, Gerard smiled, handing glasses over to bewildered band members who thanked him nervously. Hambone shot him a charming wink as Frank assured the guys it was okay to take the drinks. Conversation continued as they made their way back to the others.

"I still have a job, Frank. You don't need to worry so much." He said that, but glowed inwardly as he relished in the worry that one boy felt for the other. "I'm not gonna be bankrupt if I buy you guys a drink, I promise. I have another job apart from Cartoon Network, they've just given me a bit of time off after last week. Thanks for the concern though."

He gave the shorter boy's shoulder a friendly squeeze.

"Oh. I didn't know that. Where do you work then?"

"I'm with Mikey at Barnes and Noble. They got a temp in to cover me for a week or so until I'm ready to come back. Mikes had to practically beg them to take me on after I left art school, but since I've been there they've been great to me."

"That makes me feel a bit better at least."

"You're right though. When I get back there I _am_ gonna need to start saving up for band stuff..."

Frank's eyes flashed golden pride that made Gerard's stomach ripple with a not altogether unpleasant emotion.

"Yeah? You're doing it?"

"Otter. He's gonna be the drummer."

Evaluating where they were in proximity to the bar, Gerard felt it best to halt that line of conversation.

"Frank, I still haven't told Mikey."

"Gotcha; loud and clear." He pretended to zip his lips closed as his eyes radiated warmth.

Leaning over to the bar, Frank picked up the beer Gerard had bought for him and began to chug it, much to the amusement and applause of Mikey Way. When the glass was drained, he slammed it back down onto the countertop, and leapt onto tiptoes, kissing Gerard on the cheek on complete impulse.

"Gracias. Gotta go set up; we're on in five."

Gerard spun on his heels, hand to his cheek; unaware that his mouth was hanging open in shock, and watched Frank jog back towards the stage, leaping straight onto it without breaking his stride.

Frank took the briefest of seconds to survey Gerard's face as he picked up his guitar. The smirk spread quickly as he watched Gerard goggle back at him with a palm attached to his face. Pride ignited an adrenaline-fuelled fire in his stomach that fluttered at the sight. This was just the surge of excitement he could utilise onstage, and exchanging a frenzied nod with Hambone, realised it was definitely game on tonight.

The band shuffled into the wing and hurriedly wished each other good luck as the lights went down and the crowd began to cheer in anticipation. Impatiently fingering the strings he was to use first, Frank wondered whether Gerard was one of the voices making up the collective sound of the audience or whether that hand was still pressed over the skin freshly pecked by his lips in stunned silence.

His belly continued to flutter until the stage lights came to life, at which point nervous anticipation took over. There were always more butterflies when he had friends in the audience. Although Frank was acquainted with most people who frequented the NJ rock clubs by now, it felt different with people he could also socialise with on the outside. Now that he was aware of the presence of the Way brothers – the eldest in particular - he could feel the heavy thud of the blood in his veins and the desperation to impress clawing at his lungs.

Striding out amongst the sound of the crowd provided him with the same rush as always. It never lessened; never dulled.

Taking his rightful place in front of the centre microphone he was delighted to find it was at the correct height. Often when he disappeared during set-up like he had earlier, he would go onstage to find that some joker - usually Shaun - had set the mic up too high as a jab at Frank's height. There had been occasions when he hadn't had time to readjust it before Tim hit the beat, leaving him with no option but to play the first song on tiptoes. Relieved that wasn't the case that evening, he let his eyelids fall comfortably shut as the drumbeat commenced, tattooed fingers at the ready. After the three-count he set his arms to work as he addressed the crowd during the intro of Don Quixote.

"How are you doing out there tonight, loopy loungers? We are Pencey Prep, and we want you to dance for us. We've only got six songs for you tonight, so let's make 'em count!"

Gerard vaguely recognised the song and took the lead from his two companions, bobbing his head along to the beat. He smiled involuntarily as he recognised Frank withdraw from reality, disappearing into a world in his head that his music provided the gateway to. Gerard drank as he mused.

_He's 100% comfortable up there. _

In fact, comfort wasn't far enough. Frank was at home; it was obvious that the stage was where he belonged.

_Could __**I**__ ever be comfortable up there like that with all those eyes on me?_

It was an issue Gerard had never considered. He was desperate to try out this band thing for real. Gerard had been in a couple of small-time bands with his brother during his late teens, but that's all they had been; just a bit of fun to pass the time. He wasn't going to his grave without ever really trying to make music. He wasn't even sure if he _could _- all they had so far was a half-formed song. He wanted desperately to assess whether he had some flare for this secret desire - but the reason behind it was to share whatever they created via the means of live shows. If they could create something solid, something _real_, and one person in the crowd took home something positive from the experience then that void in Gerard's artistic being could go some way towards healing. He felt cheated by the comic book industry; tainted by his experience of creating a cartoon. If he could just get a group of like-minded guys together and play at least one show he would feel like he'd done far more for the people in that small audience than he would have done for the entirety of his potential Breakfast Monkey viewers.

But did Gerard really have it in him to be a frontman? His heart was in the right place, and according to Otter he had a half-decent voice, so perhaps he had good intentions and some element of talent on his side. However, he knew you needed more than just talent to be a frontman; what's the point in having the tools if you don't know how to use them properly?

_I mean, just look at Frank _he reasoned with himself. He was rocking both the role of guitarist and vocalist simultaneously and he was _killing _it. His eyes were screwed shut as he focused on his vocal performance whilst his arm slashed away at the strings of his instrument with perfect precision despite not looking at where he was aiming his strums. That wasn't just talent; it was an interaction between natural ability, well developed showmanship and vast experience of playing shows.

No matter what pointers Frank may have been able to offer, Gerard wasn't sure any advice would deteriorate the self-consciousness he would undoubtedly be crippled with as his chubby frame was scrutinised by so many eyes. _Not only is Frank a compact bundle of talent... he's generally good to look at. _Gerard had never been a fan of shallow phrases such as "eye candy", but he supposed that if you didn't know the small man personally it was certainly apt. One of his fingers dusted over the patch on his cheek that Frank had kissed as he continued to think.

Frank met Gerard's gaze briefly before Pencey launched into P.S Don't Write - clearly a crowd favourite, as the mass of bodies began to move and other voices joined Franks in a sing-a-long. Both men had smiled shyly across the room in that short second, Gerard hurriedly removing his hand from his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Mikey miming the words happily, foot merrily tapping away.

Gerard shook his head and drank deeply, draining the glass. He was getting ahead of himself. It was far too early to be worrying about his unease in front of a crowd. He needed more band members before they could even record a song, let alone play a show.

Otter had the drums covered, and they'd decided that Gerard could competently handle simple bass lines, but that still left them without a guitar player - arguably the most important component of a rock band. Watching Frank churn out note after perfect note without even having to try, Gerard couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy in his chest. Pencey had it all together. They had a full band, a great sound, a full length album, a record label... They also had Frank.

No longer paying attention to the performance bar keeping his eyes glued to the pint-sized front man, Gerard wracked his brain for other musicians he was friendly with. Between him and Otter - whose eyes were also glued to the stage, half-empty glass in his fist - they had quite a few guys to contact. However, although the guitarists from his former 'bands' had been decent enough, playing had only been a hobby to them. Gerard was on a mission to find someone who wanted to play as badly as he did.

He held up a single finger to signal for another drink as he continued to mentally mull over his options. He turned back to look at the stage and found that Frank had once again been looking in his direction. He blushed. Frank was obviously trying to check that Gerard was still paying attention. He'd been invited here after all, and nestled between Mikey and Otter - who were both clearly digging the show - he must have stuck out like a sore thumb. What was appropriate in this situation? A wave? A thumbs-up? Would Frank be able to see a nod from the stage? He opted for raising his pint glass when that was slid his way, and received a wide grin and swift point from Frank before he continued that section of the song.

The glass in question was tipped immediately against Gerard's thin lips and he sucked the amber liquid down as quickly as his throat would allow. He had thought of someone he could call, as long as the guy in question wasn't involved in another band. It was someone he saw play a long time ago - someone brilliant. However, he didn't have the contact details for this guy, nor had he seen him in a few months.

Mikey had.

No matter how inappropriate the timing - when he was supposed to be watching Pencey Prep in the support slot - he was buzzing off consuming two beers in such a short space of time that his lips were loose enough to tell his brother what he'd been doing for the past week. It was time to tell Mikey - right that second, before he lost the liquid courage. He took a couple of deep breaths, earning a questioning look from Otter, to which he replied with a nod.

He didn't have time to work out whether Matt had decoded his cryptic bob of the head because he brought his hand down and gripped his brother's shoulder. Mikey turned, eyebrow raised. Gerard smiled.

"Mikes." He had to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the band. "I'm starting a band."

Mikey laughed.

"Oh yeah? Frankie inspired you, has he?"

"No! Well, I mean, yes, but... that's not what I meant. I've already _started _a band. I wrote a song."

Mikey looked as if he was about to reply, but someone else got there first.

"You'll have to play it for me sometime."

Gerard's mouth fell open slightly, and his eyes widened. The voice didn't belong to either Mikey or Otter. The voice was female, and came from behind him, ghosting over his neck and bringing him out in that shiver he hadn't felt in far too long. She'd obviously had to shout to be heard over the music, but it wasn't necessary. The sound of Pencey Prep was bouncing off every surface in the club, but Gerard would have still heard her if she'd whispered. Every one of his senses was finely tuned to pick up her signal, and elation spread through him like wildfire.

His stomach jumped when he spoke without turning. He was glued to the spot, hands fisted at his side, staring through his two friends rather than at their knowing grins.

"Maybe I will."

She came into his line of sight then, blue eyes as enticing as ever, commanding his hopeful gaze immediately. She smiled, and his heart stopped as he fought back the word vomit of sweet nothings – sweet _everythings_ - that threatened to eject from his throat.

When her lips closed over his cheek and her subtle floral scent sent him dizzy, he sighed, forgetting that Frank's mouth had previously been in the same spot.


	10. Siren Song

**Chapter 10 – Siren Song**

Frank tried to feel the post-show buzz, but couldn't quite manage it. It had gone fine; it usually did when they played Loop. But Frank had been hoping for something more tonight. He wanted a _great_ show to make his friends proud of him, so that they were glad they'd come. But it obviously hadn't been as entertaining as he'd hoped. Gerard had stopped paying attention halfway through the set, instead opting to keep himself occupied by latching onto the face of some blonde chick.

It was stupid to feel bummed, and he knew that. If there's one feeling you prepare for when you start a band it's rejection. People have different music tastes – it's a fact of life that keeps things interesting. Not everyone was going to like Pencey Prep, and they'd been prepared for that eventuality right from the very beginning. But for some reason this knowledge neither soothed him nor steeled his resolve like it usually did. Frank should have been prepared for the outcome that Gerard might turn out to be one of those people. He had never before been affected in this way, simply shrugging his shoulders in the face of opposition and carrying on for the sake of the fans they _did _have.

This was not the case today as he helped the guys load the equipment back into the van with heavy shoulders and a clouded mind. No one was really feeling talkative, and that suited him down to the ground whilst he was stuck in this mood. They worked silently, each wondering what was wrong with the other, but knowing better than to ask. The last item to be loaded was Frank's guitar, and he took even more care than usual when placing it inside. It was extremely rare for him to feel any form of negativity after a show, and it made him feel strangely guilty, as if he was betraying both himself and his instrument by unwittingly dampening the buzz the stage provided him with. When the guitar lay delicate and beautiful in the back of the vehicle, he took a second to stroke over the strings his fingers felt kind of lost without.

_I'm sorry _he silently told the instrument. _It's not you. It's never you. I just wanted him to like us. _He removed his hand and closed the van door. _I'll see you tomorrow at practise. _

"I think I'm just gonna head back to my place" Tim informed them, his face looking as glum as Frank felt. Neil and Hambone expressed similar wishes whilst Frank held out his hand, motioning for the keys.

"Pass 'em. I'll drive."

As the keys flew towards his open palm, Shaun reached out and snatched them mid-air, throwing them straight back to the other three.

"No you don't" he told Frank. "You'd let your friend pay for all those drinks and not even pop back in to say bye afterwards? Since when did your mother raise you to be a dick?"

Frank sighed. Shaun was right. _Of fucking course._ That didn't mean he wasn't going to try and contest it though.

"He got lucky; he's with some chick. Don't wanna go and cramp his style."

"Ha. He has no style to cramp."

Frank's head snapped up defensively, only to find that Shaun was smiling and had meant the comment in a light-hearted way rather than as an insult. Shaun noticed the quick flame that had burned in Frank's eyes for a second and tilted his head ever so slightly, attempting to decipher what it meant. He wasn't quite sure that he understood Frank's sensitivity, but his voice was softer the next time he spoke.

"Come on, Frank. If nothing else we can at least give Mikey a message to pass on." He smirked then. "Plus, don't you want to go get a closer look at the treat he's bagged himself?"

Frank's stomach danced uneasily as he couldn't help thinking 'no', but he also couldn't stop the smile that pinched at one corner of his mouth in the face of Shaun's eyebrow wiggle. It was only common courtesy to go and say goodbye, even if that was just a wave across a crowded room. It wouldn't kill him. So he nodded and trailed behind his friend, calling goodnight to his other band mates as they climbed into the van.

When stepping back into the small club, he tried not to look so visibly moody. It was heavy on his face, weighing his shoulders down and he was terribly aware of it. Trying to shake it off, he turned his head towards the stage as they walked, checking how Nada Surf were getting on. They were popular, as always. Frank noted that the crowd numbers had fleshed out a little since Pencey had finished their set. It was always that way, no matter who was headlining, no matter what venue. Frank had never understood that, himself. Watching support was a good way of discovering new bands as far as he was concerned. He didn't really get why people didn't get their money's worth and stick around for the whole show. He scowled. He didn't really get people who came to a show and then spent the night plastered to some girl, either.

And with that thought he spotted Gerard. They were stood off to the side, Gerard pushing himself desperately against the blonde who was responding in kind, curling her lithe body around the dips and curves of Gerard's chest and stomach. There was barely room for air between the two bodies, let alone personal space. Their intensity wasn't public-friendly, and it wasn't behaviour that Frank would have previously associated with Gerard at all. _Any second now they're going to the toilets to fuck. _He tore his eyes away in an attempt to lessen the strange pull in his stomach. It was bizarre to feel so bad about a lack of fandom from one person; especially someone who he had only just began to think of as a friend.

Shaun was already making his way over to Mikey and Matt, who were chatting whilst watching the performance. He clapped both hands down on the startled shoulders of Mikey Way as Frank trudged behind him. Frank didn't even pay attention to the first snippets of conversation between the other three guys. He was too busy trying not to turn around and watch Gerard soothe his traumatised tongue between the gleaming teeth of the mysterious girl.

He didn't tune back into the conversation before him until Mikey bumped a fresh pint against his chest. He clasped it tightly and lifted his eyes gratefully.

"Thanks, dude."

Shaun had engaged Matt in conversation about the song Nada Surf had just begun, leaving Mikey looking to Frank expectantly. He opened with the only subject he felt comfortable with.

"Enjoying the show?"

"Of course, man. You were great, as always."

Mikey's smile was easy and genuine, but Frank found that he couldn't respond in kind, so opted to dip his eyes and take a drink instead. _He's probably just lying to protect my feelings. _When he lifted his gaze again, Mikey had questions behind his glasses, so Frank angled his body and pointed with a finger on the hand holding his drink, his other fist jammed tightly in his pocket. He still didn't want to look back at them, so he was merely gesturing blindly, expecting the other boy to know what he was talking about.

"Someone else didn't think so."

Mikey let his eyes dance over the entwined bodies, and kept them there even as he replied. Mikey's tone was mellow and full of understanding. The girl had her arms looped behind Gerard's neck, holding him tightly to her. They broke away from their kisses for the briefest second to exchange a couple of smiling words, before assaulting each other's lips once more.

"Nah, give him a break, man. I'm sure he loved it. He just hasn't seen her in a while."

Frank turned around and goggled before he could mentally instruct himself not to.

"You mean he _knows _her?"

Mikey snorted out a small laugh.

"Of course he does. You think my brother's the type of guy who picks up girls in clubs like that?"

When Frank heard the words coming out of someone else's mouth and not just his own internal ramblings, he had to admit it sounded pretty ridiculous. This is the guy that Frank had never even seen outside of his own house until tonight. The chubby hermit in a Maiden shirt, who draws comic books and works at a book store. Of course he fucking knew her.

"No. ...No, I guess you're right."

Although now that Frank had dared to take a look, that didn't make the facts any easier to digest. It now made sense that he was making out with some girl in the club; they knew each other. However it still didn't really make sense that they knew each other in the first place. There was nothing aesthetic that one could draw on to connect the dots between the guy and the girl. She was wearing light blue jeans and a short black vest that exposed her perfectly flat stomach. Her naturally blonde hair cascaded down her back; lustrous and in good condition. Underneath her jeans she wore a pair of high heels that elevated her almost as tall as Gerard.

Frank wasn't usually one to judge books by their covers. In fact, he abhorred those sorts of snap judgements. This time he couldn't help it. Besides the fact that she was in the Loop Lounge at all, there was nothing to suggest that the two of them ran in the same circles. It baffled him. And then something clicked in his mind that he had to have confirmed.

"Wait, so... they're _together?_"

"Looks kinda weird from the outside, I know; popular blonde cheerleader type with the geeky rocker. But yeah, they've been together a good 3 months now" Mikey informed him, nodding.

Frank wondered why he'd never been aware of her before. Sure, he'd only been really talking to Gerard for a week or so. However throughout his entire friendship with Mikey no member of the Way family had ever mentioned that Gerard had a girlfriend, and he certainly hadn't seen her come by the house while he'd been hanging around; either in the past week, or whenever he had visited Mikey previously.

"I know what you're thinking" Mikey cut in, interrupting his train of thought. "Why didn't you know she exists, or why didn't you see her at our place. And believe me; I'm not exactly happy with the situation."

The couple had untangled their lips and were talking, Gerard's fingers never ceasing to stroke over her arm. It made Frank feel a little nauseous and was glad Mikey shared his thoughts. Gerard had been emotionally fucked when he got home on the 11th. Frank remembered the way Gerard's usually sturdy solid body had quickly fallen limp and delicate, quaking in his arms, lungs gasping for purchase they couldn't secure. Surely the girlfriend of 3 months should have been the one curled up crying on the lounge floor with him instead of Frank? Mikey continued talking in the same vein as Frank's thoughts.

"I want there to be a fucking good excuse why she didn't come around, but there isn't gonna be one. She's been ignoring my calls all week, and I could really lay into her about it. Believe me, I want to. But I won't." He sighed, eyes never moving from his brother. "I mean, would you? How can I steal away that smile? However unreliable she may be, you can always guarantee that if she's there, he's happy. I can't find it in me to contest that."

Considering Mikey's words, he turned again, and viewed the happiness that coated Gerard's features. The couple had seemingly finished their excruciatingly long greeting, and had now turned their attention back to the stage. The girl was tapping her foot away to the beat, arms crossed beneath her small breasts. Gerard had planted his chin on her left shoulder, and watched the band from behind her, arms snaking around and culminating in clasped hands that lay across the bare skin of her belly. The smile on his face was almost delirious, like he couldn't believe the position he was in.

The current song came to a close and Frank made an effort to join in with the cheering of the crowd. His eye twitched as he noticed that Gerard and his companion were not paying the same level of courtesy. He dragged his eyes away as Matthew, Nada Surf's vocalist, began to address the crowd between songs.

"Whoa, man. Thanks, guys, you rock as per usual."

He broke off to take a sip of water from a bottle as the crowd gave another chorus of cheers at receiving a compliment.

"Then again, I guess you were always gonna be pumped after watching PENCEY PREP!"

The whole band had chorused in with their instruments to incite another riotous reaction from the audience, and a genuine smile crept on Frank's face as Matthew grinned in his direction from the stage.

"I bet those guys put you to motherfucking work! Pencey are one of the best damn Jersey bands around, and we're always honoured to share a stage with those dudes."

Another roar of appreciation bubbled from the collective throat of the crowd. Mikey slapped Frank across the back and Matt jammed his fingers between his lips to whistle loudly. Frank laughed, throwing a glance to Shaun, who wore a matching shit-eating grin, and clapped his hands in Frank's direction, enticing him to return the gesture. The two members of Pencey Prep revelled in the sound of the crowd, and applauded each other mockingly. Laughing and giving Shaun's shoulder a slight shove, Frank glanced around the room briefly. He was both surprised and embarrassingly delighted to spy Gerard, arms unhooked from the girl's body, raised high in the air, clapping his hands together with vigour. His body was twisted around and he was staring at Frank's face, dopey smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he clapped so hard Frank suspected his hands might fall off. It made his stomach clench not unpleasantly, and he also noted that mystery-girl was taking Gerard's lead and tapping her palms together politely.

"Now, I spy a couple of the Pencey boys chilling over by the bar, I want you to go buy those motherfuckers a drink; the rest of this show's for them!" Matthew cried, pointing directly at Shaun before strumming the opening notes.

Frank became aware that a guy and his girlfriend were attempting to talk to Shaun and himself, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Gerard's. Across the room, Gerard's arm slipped slowly back around the blonde, but hazel eyes remained glued to Frank's, intense and searching for something. That eye contact remained until the girl leaned up to talk in Gerard's ear, capturing his attention once more. He nodded with a wide grin, and Frank watched as they made their way over to the area of the bar furthest from where he was stood, beckoning the bartender over.

Frank felt a finger poke his shoulder and turned to find it attached to Gerard's brother.

"Please stop. He'll come back over. Just stop worrying."

_Worrying? Fuck, I must look even more pathetic than I feel. _Frank wanted to protest – 'Worried? You kidding?' – but he couldn't find it in him to lie to Mikey Way. Thankfully the silence didn't last long as Mikey continued.

"I wanted to thank you again, by the way. I know I've already thanked you about that business on the 11th, but while you guys were onstage G told us about this band thing. He said you really helped him out – played his song or something?"

The shock that came from knowing that Gerard had told his brother that he had _really helped him out _rendered Frank a little dumb, so he did all that he could in response and nodded, before Mikey finished.

"He seems serious, and he got real animated when he was talking about it. So thanks again. He needs all the encouragement he can get right now."

Frank wished he could just nod again and let it slide, but he found that his mouth began moving without his permission. He already felt loyal to Gerard for some unfathomable reason.

"He deserves the encouragement, Mikes; really. The song was really good. He's not so great at playing and singing at the same time, which is why I helped out. But at least ask to take a look at his lyrics. They're really good, and I think he'd appreciate you making the effort."

He was once again remembering how hard it can be when starting out a band to get people to listen to your stuff. It's one of those things that no one really takes seriously; especially family members. In the all-seeing eye of a parent, the desire to start a band in your garage is "just a phase". If someone asked to hear your stuff before you offered (or thrust it upon them) it felt amazing. That was exactly the sort of buzz that would encourage Gerard to continue his endeavours. He also knew that Mikey was a cool enough guy that not only would he take Frank's advice and ask Gerard every question under the sun about the band he wants to start, but he'll genuinely agree that the song is awesome, not just giving his brother pity-praise.

Mikey was staring at Frank with a relaxed smile on his face.

"I should have made more of an effort to get my brother to hang with us before. He could have used a friend like you a long time ago."

Somehow, Frank knew that Mikey was scrutinising his face to check whether his eyes jumped to the opposite end of the bar, so he made a conscious effort to keep them on the younger Way brother rather than skirt over to the elder. The comment had warmed his insides considerably, and he repressed the question of 'why'. He was also glad for the low lighting everywhere but the stage, as he suspected himself of blushing. Smiling, he tapped his glass against Mikey's and took a drink, steeling himself to stick it out for the rest of the night. Nada Surf had dedicated their set to his band; it would be rude to leave before they were done. Frank decided to mentally note how long he managed to make that excuse seem truthful in his brain.

It didn't take long to debunk.

Matthew's shout-out did well enough to bag Shaun and Frank another drink and keep them in good supply of conversation for the rest of the evening. They'd even been asked to sign an actual copy of their album for a guy. Their signatures had come out wobbly as fuck, and the only pen available had been a blotchy biro, but the fan seemed impressed nonetheless. Signing autographs wasn't something they were asked to do very often. It was a total novelty, and made them feel as if the entire struggle with the band was actually worth something.

As the night progressed, and fans helped keep Frank happy and relaxed, his glances toward Gerard and his girlfriend grew fewer and far between. He had noticed the two downing a lot of shots, and the stupid grin remain plastered all over Gerard's kiss-stained lips, but not much else.

Conversation no longer needed to be conducted at top volume, as Nada Surf had finished playing around 20 minutes ago. Now that it was easier to talk properly Frank was getting on quite well with Matt, even being invited to call him by his nickname. He was still laughing over one of Otter's dumb jokes when he felt his shoulder being poked again. He turned mid-laugh, expecting the bony digit to belong to Mikey Way, but instead found himself face to face with Gerard.

"Hi" Gerard breathed.

Frank found that his throat closed up in the onslaught of Gerard's easy smile and glassy eyes. He couldn't even twitch his mouth to form a smile in return. He was torn between being overwhelmingly glad that Gerard had finally come back over, and staying a little pissy because he'd stopped paying attention to Pencey's set halfway through.

Gerard seemed a little perturbed at Frank's lack of response, and his mouth fell neutral. Frank suspected Gerard was just about to question him, but the rest of the 'gang' jumped in and greeted him in turn. Whilst Matt and Mikey welcomed him back, and Shaun introduced himself, Frank managed to knock down his expressional wall, and found that the glad smile fit his face far easier than a pissy scowl. Just as Mikey stopped ribbing Gerard over how long he'd taken, his eyes slid cautiously back to Frank. They lit up when he noticed the positivity level had risen.

"Hey" smiled Frank, in a tardy reply.

Gerard leant slightly into his ear, even though there was far less noise to project above now that the bands were done.

"You were amazing up there."

Frank's stomach jittered again, and he couldn't even find the energy to query it. He was just inwardly debating whether he should bring up the fact that Gerard wasn't even paying attention half the time, when he was beaten to it.

"I was still listening" Gerard assured him, as if he intricately knew the plethora of feelings brewing in Frank's belly. "The whole time."

He couldn't find a trace of falseness amongst the hot-breathed Jersey accent, and it kind of gave him shivers to know that Gerard had been attending to anything other than his girlfriend's lips, and that the "anything" in question had been Frank. Gerard pulled back now, turning to the right, and Frank noticed that the girl had been attached to one of those artist's hands the whole time.

"You already know Matt and Mikey, obviously" Gerard said to her, watching her face with adoration. "But this is Shaun, who I've only just met myself –" Gerard received brownie points for recalling the fresh name with such ease. "- and this is Frank" he gestured.

The girl was visibly taller than Frank, even more so in her high heels and it made him feel increasingly intimidated when attached to her confident smile. She extended her hand, which he judged a slightly strange gesture for a female, but he took it gingerly, not wanting to offend. Her grip was tight, just overly so, and she tossed her blonde locks back over her shoulder before speaking.

"Hi. I'm Kaye."

_ She isn't from around here _Frank noted. Her accent was slightly more southern, without the ever so slight nasal hit that her boyfriend possessed when he spoke. Her emerald eyes weren't shy, and made strong contact with Frank's. She addressed Shaun in the same manner, but softened when she got to Matt; even more so when she got to Mikey. Frank would have been surprised at the ease at which the younger brother managed to keep his anger at bay, but he had known the guy too long to be fooled.

"This umm... she's my... girlfriend" Gerard mumbled, not knowing that Frank had already been informed. They gave each other sideways glances, whilst Kaye withdrew from her final handshake.

"So, KK. Long time no see" smirked Matt, far bolder than Mikey would dare be.

Otter could get away with it though; Gerard needed him for the band, and thus didn't have the luxury to remain angry at him for any lengthy period of time. Matt also didn't have to go home with the guy afterwards, so wouldn't be in such an awkward position by annoying the elder Way. Even so, Gerard shot him a halting look, and slid his arm protectively around Kaye's waist. He jumped in before she could prise apart her pretty little lips and shoot back with a retort.

"Well she's here now, what more do you want?"

Everyone but Gerard had a pre-formed reply in their minds, but knew better than to give it a voice. Kaye still replied as if they had, knowing intuitively what everyone was thinking about her.

"I haven't been around much lately. To _anyone_" she added pointedly. "Speaking of which, I should probably go mingle a little bit" she said, sliding a hand onto Gerard's chest to indicate she was talking to him.

"I'm gonna do the same" announced Mikey, eager to ease the tension. "Gonna go see Shaun Dylan."

Kaye's eyes lit up with warmth.

"Aww, Dylan's here? I haven't seen him in ages. Whereabouts, Mikes?"

He gestured to the far corner.

"Come with" he suggested companionably. It was clear to Frank that Mikey obviously got on with her okay under normal circumstances, which made him feel a little better. If Mikey was already willing to put aside her recent absence and return to business as usual, Frank figured that he ought to do the same. He wasn't half as involved as Mikey, and would feel a little silly being the overly defensive outsider.

She stepped out of the curve of Gerard's arm, and Frank's heart twinged briefly as Gerard grew visibly anxious, as if letting her go would mean she never came back.

"Y-yeah" he joined in, slurring nervously. "Yeah, let's go."

"Oh don't be silly, GG. Mikey'll look after me. Stay with your friends. I'm well aware I sort of stole you away" she giggled, shooting Frank an impossibly charming smile.

When she turned back to Gerard her curved mouth was generous, encouraging. She was making sure that Gerard paid attention to his manners in much the same way Shaun had done for Frank, but he still got the impression that Gerard would much rather have her beg him to stay by her side. He looked torn, shooting longing glances at her and apologetic reluctant ones to his friends.

Shaun had obviously sussed this out too as he jumped in with "Otter was just saying he'll give me a lift back. Got an early morning, and he wants to head home soon."

Although he now wasn't as eager to leave as he had been before, Frank would have felt awkward sticking around as third wheel, so attempted to opt out in the same manner.

"Oh. No. Don't worry about it, Gerard, I was then gonna head off too."

The lie tickled his tongue, but he knew it was worth it to rid Gerard of his dilemma. Apparently though, Mikey and Kaye were having none of it.

"Frank. Stay" said Mikey, voice firm but not demanding. He had a way of making everything sound logical; well of _course, _why would he _not _stay? He turned that same logical look onto his brother. "G, Frank invited us here tonight. Don't be a prick. Hang out. Chill. Socialise. You remember what that means?"

Kaye giggled as Gerard flipped his brother off good-naturedly, relaxing a little. She ran her palm reassuringly over his arm.

"Mikey's right, as usual. We'll say hi for you. You stay and sit with Frank awhile. I'll come find you later, yeah?"

She didn't wait for an answer, simply bouncing on tiptoes up to Gerard's mouth. The kiss was chaste and barely lasted a second, but the intensity on Gerard's face was instant as their lips connected, making Frank feel embarrassed for watching. On her end it was a normal everyday peck to let him know she would see him in a few minutes. In ultimate contrast, Gerard was focused solely on the feel of her lips, eyes crinkling with emotion and hand floating from his side as if to reach Kaye's hip, even though the moment was far too brief for him to ever make it. The look on his face was almost pain-stricken when she pulled away, giggling at his expression and touching the end of his nose with her forefinger.

"You're so clingy when you're drunk, baby." The term of endearment was far from personal, but it still made Gerard flash his small teeth immediately, revealing that in fact she was correct, and a lot of his intensity was due to the alcohol currently coursing through his system.

With that, Otter and Shaun said goodbye to everyone, and Mikey and Kaye sauntered off to the other side of the club, leaving Frank and his half-drunken companion sitting at the bar. Gerard's eyes followed Kaye across the room until she was lost in the sea of bodies. Surprisingly, when he turned back to Frank, he did look genuinely appreciative of his presence, as if his relationship with Kaye strictly adhered to the phrase 'out of sight, out of mind'. His smile was fluid and inviting, eliminating most of Frank's awkwardness immediately. Before speaking however, he turned his attention to the barman and ordered two more beers.

Frank began to protest that it was his turn to pay, but was swiftly silenced with a blasé gesture of Gerard's arm, as his other handed over the money. When the glass was passed his way, Frank's eyebrows had tensed slightly, embarrassed at being so broke that his friends felt that they had to buy every one of his drinks.

"Hey look, man, this one isn't out of the kindness of my heart" Gerard assured him. "I'm just doing what the dude from Surf told me to do. Don't wanna disrespect his wishes."

Frank couldn't help but smile at that one, and mutter "thank you" before putting the glass to his lips. When he put it back down, Gerard hadn't even touched his, and was just staring at him with a dopey smile on his face. Frank's skin began to itch under such scrutiny, and his eyes darted around a little in nervous confusion.

"...What?"

He was a little startled when Gerard leant forward quick as a flash and gripped one of Frank's hands.

"You were _amazing_" he gushed. Now that his face was so much closer, Frank could not only smell the alcohol on Gerard's breath but also see how the liquid had tinted the veins in his cheeks to bring him out in a rouge colour. _He definitely is sort of drunk._ It eased Frank's nerves, bringing him out in another smile. "I really was listening the whole time, Frank, I promise. I mean, I was trying not to – I mean I was kissing Kaye, and that's pretty fucking distracting, y'know? But I couldn't tune you out. Your sound; your band. I can't even- Frank, you were _amazing_" he reiterated.

With each further drunken compliment, Frank felt his smile increase in size. Although Gerard was drunk, he had no doubt that the words were true. More often than not, drunken declarations revealed absolute truth, normal reservations having been singed away by the potent liquid. ...That's not to say that the lack of reservations didn't sometimes lean more towards exaggeration, but Frank liked to think that the sentiments still originated in Gerard's genuine appreciation for the band's performance.

Recognising that Gerard was even more talkative when drunk, Frank couldn't help but probe for more. He'd spent his evening fretting that Pencey Prep hadn't held Gerard's attention, leading him to seek out other entertainment, so given the opportunity to revoke this worry, he just fucking ran with it.

"Really?" he grinned.

Gerard's eyes widened as if he couldn't believe that Frank doubted himself.

"Of _course! _I'm really sorry. You must have thought I was really shitty, walking off like that. Did you notice me?"

In the back of his mind, Frank was aware that he was being asked whether he had noticed when Gerard had stopped paying attention whilst he was playing, but the forefront of his mind took the question literally. Had he _noticed _Gerard? Damn, his eyes had pretty much been fucking glued to him, desperate for his approval. Ever since the 11th Frank hadn't been able to _stop_ noticing Gerard. He was thoroughly fascinating, even though they'd only really hung out twice. And to be perfectly fair, the first time, full of tears and venting, could hardly be defined as "hanging out".

He nodded dumbly, without really processing which version of the question he was responding to. Thankfully Gerard's motor-mouth started up again.

"I just haven't seen her. I haven't seen her in so long, Frank, it feels like so long. I'm really sorry. I was so psyched to come watch you play. Really. You didn't disappoint me, either. You were completely fucking amazing. I got real jealous."

Gerard had let go of Frank's hand by now, instead gesturing his arms wildly as he spoke, trying to emote even further despite it really not being necessary. Frank had propped his head up with one hand, the other resting on his thigh. An eyebrow quirked at the last declaration.

"What do you mean jealous?"

Gerard took a massive gulp of his beer, downing almost half the glass before he went back to his explanation, eyes wide and wild.

"Well, I mean, you're so good at it. This band stuff, you're really good at it. You were at home up there. That's your real home, isn't it? The stage. You fucking owned it. Just singing and playing and acting up to the crowd. It's like you don't care what they all think of you."

"I do" he sighed. "Trust me. I probably shouldn't, but I do."

"Yeah, but you make it look like you don't, you know? You make it look like you couldn't give a shit what the geeky fat dude in the maiden shirt thinks; you're gonna fucking rock out anyway."

Frank's smile fell slightly to hear Gerard refer to himself as fat, but continued to listen, as Gerard kept spewing.

"I couldn't do that shit. I want to. I really want to. I mean, I really love that song. _My _song. It was perfect when you played it, Frank, it was perfect. I wish it could be like that, all the time, me and you and the guitar showing people what we can do."

As Gerard paused to take a breath the two boys exchanged a silent look. Frank didn't know that Gerard had felt so strongly about the song when they played it together, but then with Mikey bursting in, he supposed there wasn't really a chance to find out. Gerard's words touched him – no one had ever called his playing perfect before – but they both knew that Gerard's wish was neither obtainable nor practical. He needed more than an acoustic guitar to bring that song to its full potential, and Frank hoped that Gerard would keep pushing until he could make that a reality.

"But I wouldn't be able to do it anyway. There's no way I'd be good enough, Frank. I'm no good at anything. I'm too scared. I'm too scared to get up there and have all those eyes on me. I have nothing to offer those people but laughter. Laughing at me as they get a flash of my fat stomach when my bad fitting t-shirt rides up."

"Hey, whoa, stop." This time it was Frank who reached out for Gerard, gripping his forearm tightly and looking straight into his eyes. "Don't talk about yourself like that. If you can make this happen – and I fucking believe you can, Gerard Way – you'll have everything to offer that crowd. Even if your fucking t-shirt rides up and they're lucky enough to catch a little skin. They'll be too damn into your music to worry about whether you're carrying a little extra weight along the belt line."

Gerard stared back, drunken wavering eyes attempting to hold Frank's gaze as best he could, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth before he timidly spoke.

"You think that?"

"I _know _that. Besides, you're not half as big as you think you are."

Gerard didn't smile, grateful for the compliment, but simply reached for his glass and drained the rest of the contents. He didn't pull away from Frank's grasp on his arm, but craned his head, scanning the club once more to try and catch a glimpse of Kaye.

"Shouldn't she be back already?" he wondered aloud.

Frank couldn't help but feel intensely offended, and took his hand off Gerard immediately, snatching it back as if the limb had been stolen rather than freely offered. Surprisingly, Gerard noticed the cold patch where Frank's palm had been, and looked down at it in confusion, pursing his lips.

"Jesus Christ, Gerard, we've only been sitting here five fucking minutes" he grumbled. As he locked eyes with the barman again he considered only ordering one beer for himself out of spite, but thought better of it at the last second. "Same again" he sighed angrily.

_I know where I'm not wanted. I'm not that much of an idiot. _Gerard was clearly not in the mood to hang out with anyone besides his girlfriend. Frank just wished that his inebriated state wouldn't allow him to be so blunt about it. It made him feel like such an idiot.

The funny thing was he usually wasn'tthis easily offended. Even if offended, he was good at passing it off as nothing. Time with the band had taught him that much; even if their words cut deep, you couldn't let them know it. You had to stay strong, even if just on the surface. Apparently that wasn't the case with Mikey's brother. Frank had tried all week not to take it personally that he hadn't been permitted to see him, but had failed tonight at not caring that Gerard's eyes had been glued to a girl rather than his band. He'd been moping around ever since coming off stage, and however much he tried to tell himself it wasn't to do with Gerard, he wasn't quite able to escape the truth. Now the guy couldn't even stick talking to him for five minutes at the bar. It made him feel sick how much he pined for this guy's approval, and basically threw his money at the barman in frustration.

His heart leapt into his throat when he felt Gerard's hand on his face, turning his head back around again. He batted the hand away hastily, embarrassed at how quickly his cheeks had warmed, but obliged by looking in the requested direction.

"_What?_" he snapped.

"I'm hurting you." Frank's eyes widened at the serious tone, oblivious to being so transparent, especially to a drunk guy. "I don't mean to. You don't understand."

Gerard's face was creased in a negative emotion that Frank couldn't quite decipher. He'd have guessed anger, if it wasn't for the perfectly calm reasoning when Gerard spoke. It was some strange mixture of pacifistic anger, sadness, guilt and pleading. His damaged eyes implored Frank to loosen up, the angry tension draining from his shoulders and relaxing his facial features. It was in that moment that he took conscious note of the knowledge that Gerard was clinically depressed. Perhaps he should cut the guy some slack; give him the chance to explain himself.

"Make me" Frank demanded quietly. "Make me understand. What's wrong?" He was almost startled when Gerard laughed, but not quite. He was quickly getting used to Gerard's bizarre emotional displays. "Gerard, it's okay. I get it. You just want to hang out with your girlfriend tonight. It's not a problem. Really."

The older boy smiled, pulling his crumpled cigarette packet from his pocket. He withdrew one of the sticks and silently slipped it between Frank's lips before retrieving one for himself. It was only once he'd lit up and taken his first drag that he passed the lighter to Frank and replied.

"Would you tell people things about me?" He exhaled his smoke slowly, as he watched Frank's eyebrows furrow. He didn't bother to wait for his question to be queried. "If I told you something, would you tell other people? Would you tell Mikey or Matt or Shaun?"

Taking a drag on his cigarette, Frank reached down the bar to pull a heavy ashtray to rest between the two of them. He shook his head as he opened his mouth and began to let the smoke drift out languidly. Impatient, he blew out the rest in a hurry.

"Not if you didn't want me to. No."

Gerard leant a little further forward than necessary as he deposited some ash into the small bowl.

"I don't want you to."

Frank nodded, absently wondering how much of this behaviour was inherently Gerard and how much of it was alcohol-induced.

It was only now that Gerard's eyes focused somewhere other than Frank. He watched his own hand as he flicked his cigarette against the edge of the ash tray, and then kept his gaze there when he brought it back to his mouth. He took another drag, before raising that same hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb along his hairline as he spoke.

"I need her."

Frank felt the onset of confusion again at this seemingly anti-climatic statement. That's what most couples tend to think about each other, isn't it? Admitting that he needed her wasn't exactly something that others would ridicule him for. However, Frank was beginning to learn that nothing Gerard said was ever simple. There was always a second part to the story, which is why he didn't voice his confusion, merely taking another mouthful of his drink and putting the cigarette back in his mouth.

"...But she's not my girlfriend."

The cigarette smoke got caught halfway on Frank's inhale and he managed to splutter as half continued on the journey into his lungs, whereas the other half already began to drift out again. Gerard merely smiled half-heartedly up at him as he waited for Frank to resume breathing air.

"What?"

"It's easier to tell people that, you know? I mean, we've been seeing each other a while, but sometimes we see other people too. We just keep it kinda casual, you know?"

This was the first time Frank had felt wary about believing Gerard's words. It wasn't exactly a strange situation, a couple of young adults keeping their relationship open and slightly less serious. In fact, most people would argue that it's healthy. However, the way that Gerard was still gazing fixedly at the ashtray and not at Frank's face made him feel uneasy about taking the words as cold hard truth.

"_You_ see other people?"

The lighting in the club wasn't great, but Frank could still see enough to notice Gerard's eyebrows drawing together as he continued to smoke. He took his time finishing the cigarette, knowing that Frank was waiting on his reply, but with no apparent intention to give him one. As he began to crush the butt into the bowl, he kept his eyes on what he was doing, as if putting out a cigarette required intense concentration. Frank got bored waiting, and gently probed a little more.

"Gerard, it's only her who dates other people."

It wasn't a question, but Gerard's first words confirmed it immediately.

"There's nothing wrong with that, Frank" Gerard stated bluntly. "She just- she doesn't want anything serious right now."

"...But you do. ...You don't want to date other people. You just want her."

Gerard finally stopped staring at the ashtray, and let his broken eyes find Frank's. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, finding a retort and then casting it aside. He settled back on his original declaration.

"...I need her."

He wasn't going to say anything more than that, but Frank knew exactly what Gerard was trying to convey in those three little words. Hell, most of the entire Pencey Prep discography was borne out of his heartbreak from a previous relationship. Frank knew exactly what it was like to find that girl that made you actually feel like part of the crowd for once. To suddenly become the guy whose name everyone knows, because he's the luckiest fuck alive for being the guy that _she _wants. The girl who could wipe away all of your little petty insecurities just with a smile. The girl who made you feel like you were actually worth something, even if your only purpose in life was to make her happy. The girl who actually made you feel like a man.

Yeah, he needed her. Frank knew just how badly Gerard felt he needed Kaye. And knowing just how little else Gerard had in his life, Frank was strongly inclined to believe it. However he also knew how weak this realisation could make you feel. He hopped off his barstool, and leant on tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Gerard's neck.

Gerard went rigid immediately, but Frank didn't relent.

"I know what she means to you" he spoke onto the shell of Gerard's ear. "Trust me, I know. Just don't forget that you have other people too. You have Mikey and Otter. You have me."

It was at that last addition that Gerard relaxed and threw his arms around Frank's torso, squeezing tightly.

"Frankie" he gasped, fisting his hands in Frank's t-shirt. Frank nuzzled into Gerard's neck in response. He sounded almost close to tears, overly emotional due to the sheer number of shots he'd downed that night. "Frank, I'm nothing without her."

"You're wrong, you're so wrong. You're so much, Gerard. You're so, so much. You're everything. You can be everything." Frank wasn't even sure what he was talking about anymore, simply babbling whatever came to his head without spot-checking, just desperate to soothe his friend's pain. The alcohol had begun to affect him more than he realised, but there was no stopping the word-vomit now, not when Gerard's breaths were that laboured in emotion against Frank's collarbone. Gerard pushed him back, instead holding Frank at arm's length, crazy eyes flitting over his face in search for honesty.

Frank's alcohol-ridden stomach tripped successively as he noticed Gerard's gaze lingering more and more often at his mouth. His lungs were working in overtime in response to this realisation, inhaling and expelling breath far quicker than necessary. The more Gerard stared at his lips, the harder his breath came. The harder his breath came, the more Gerard stared at his lips. Eventually the elder pair of hazel eyes gave up the pretence and fell stationary. "...You _have_ me" Frank breathed, voice barely above a whisper, licking the lips that Gerard was fixated on.

His eyes flickered just as Gerard looked like he was going to lean forward, and he cursed out loud, jerking his arms away from Gerard's touch as he noticed Mikey and Kaye walking back over, thankfully too engrossed in conversation to notice whatever the fuck was happening just mere seconds beforehand. Gerard didn't even flinch, immediately realising what was happening. He sighed loudly and lit another cigarette, before craning his head and grinning in Kaye's direction, extending his other hand to capture hers as she came closer. Frank suddenly became overly enticed by his beer, and gulped the rest of the liquid down as Kaye greeted her non-boyfriend with a kiss on the neck he had just been nuzzling into.

Frank awkwardly welcomed them back; inwardly cursing their return, wondering what the hell would have happened if they'd been gone any longer. He listened nervously to the recounted tale of their conversation with this Shaun Dylan character, nodding where appropriate, glad that Gerard had picked up the slack, answering with actual English.

When the guy in question made his way over, apparently eager to talk to Gerard, Frank made a hasty excuse to leave. It wasn't exactly a lie, he _did _have band practise in the morning. It was pretty late by that point, so no one really made any attempt to persuade him to stay, which he was thankful for. He said his goodbyes, making sure to look at Gerard so as not to indicate any awkwardness to the other three, but he was so drunk that none of his actions were exactly executed fluidly. In the brief exchange he'd had with Gerard's eyes one final time, he detected a hint of fear in the hazel hue, which he was sure he mirrored, heart hammering a million miles a minute until he got out of the club as quickly yet casually as he could.

_Jesus shit. _The second he stepped into the crisp night air he rolled a joint with trembling digits, and smoked as much of the thing as he could possibly handle on the brisk walk home. He was desperate to feel chilled out again before he tried to process what he'd just told Gerard.

The walk home didn't take long, and he flicked the spent roach over into his neighbour's front garden as he exhaled the last of his smoke. Frank only slid his key into the front door once he was sure the cherry had ceased burning. Snagging a bottle of beer from the fridge he practically floated upstairs to his room. Crawling under the comforter, he fought the urge to spark up again, instead unscrewing the lid on his beer. His head was practically swimming; he wouldn't be able to handle another toke even if he wanted to. It was only after the empty bottle lay on his bedroom floor that he allowed himself to ponder over the night's events.

His own words echoed inside his hazy skull. '_You __**have **__me?' ...Fuck._

He groaned lazily and softly as he recognised the implications his emphasis had made. Gerard's drunken face filtered slowly back into his mind and Frank let out a soft exasperated giggle when he couldn't quite suppress his smile. He threw his forearm over his face and settled down to try and sleep, deliberately refusing to think about said implications.

_Fuck._


	11. Cereal Killers and Shameful Fluid

**Chapter 11 – Cereal Killers and Shameful Fluid**

Frank zipped his hoodie up as he stood on the Way's porch. During the day it was still relatively warm for October, but this early in the morning he could just about feel the Jersey chill biting at his ankles. It wasn't even 8am yet.

Frank was on his way to college for the first time in about two weeks. If he didn't put in at least _semi-_regular appearances, he'd end up getting in shit with the Dean again, and that was just one extra unnecessary stressor. Between part-time shifts at the pizza place, band practise and playing shows, college had dropped quite an embarrassing distance on the priority scale. So here he was, up bright and early, ready for a day chock-full of learning.

He tried really hard not to groan at the prospect, but didn't quite manage it. It was Gerard and Mikey's Grandma that answered.

"Oh hello, honey. Come you in out of the cold."

Elena had barely finished her first word of greeting before she was herding him into the house and closing the door. She gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen, offering him a seat at the table.

"Would you like a drink? I've just finished brewing the coffee."

Frank declined politely as he sat.

"No, thank you. I wasn't planning on stopping long. I'm on my way to college."

"Oh, are you now? Say no more. I'm impressed. Mikey's not as gifted at making his early classes as you appear to be" she smiled, pouring coffee into a mug with Snoopy on the side.

Frank stretched his lips into his cheeks; awkwardly smiling instead of admitting that he attended so infrequently that he'd previously been threatened with expulsion.

"Which one were you here to see?"

"Umm, Gerard?" His statement came out more like a question, but upon viewing the clock hanging on the wall he backtracked a little. "But it is quite early, actually, so maybe he's not up. I could leave a message instead?"

"Oh no, we can't have that, Frank, I'm under strict instructions" she informed him, coming closer with the full mug in hand.

He mirrored the smile she offered, but couldn't help the twitch of his eyebrows, wondering what instructions she was referring to. She seemed to wave it off, however, and pushed the mug into his hands. Frank hadn't previously pegged Elena as one of those pushy grandparents who force-fed the guests to bursting, but perhaps he was wrong. He couldn't say it was a bad trait, though. In fact, his smile grew a little wider.

"I was only asking because you can go and give that to Gerard. Those basement stairs are no good for my old knees, you see. You'll be saving me a trip."

"Oh!" Frank exclaimed, jumping up and cradling the mug. "Of course."

"He needs to take his pills" she said, nodding in that understanding manner that came so naturally to her. "You can tell him if he wants breakfast, he should come up here and I'll make him some. We all have to do our part to coax the monster from his cave".

Frank grinned helplessly at her conspiratorial wink, pleased to know that his very reason for dropping by was to do his bit.

Elena watched Frank disappear through the basement door, closing it softly behind him. He could definitely do with a comb through his hair, but she liked him. He was the sort of boy who could have a conversation with his friend's parents – or grandparent, in this case – whilst being polite, but not overly shy. It didn't feel forced, and she was glad he had come around. She hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks, and had secretly worried that the two might have fought. Relieved that this didn't seem to be the case, she turned and popped some bread in the toaster. Maybe he was in too much of a hurry to drink coffee, but he could at least take a slice of toast to go.

Frank was slow in his descent. His stomach was fluttering embarrassingly. What if Gerard was asleep? Frank wasn't exactly a shy dude, but he and Gerard weren't quite yet at that stage of friendship where he could jump on the bed until he received an intelligible response without fearing for his life. He wasn't quite sure how to go about waking someone gently. The few times he'd shared a bed with someone, the girl had always woken up first, so that experience provided no insight. He had literally no idea how to approach the situation, and as he knocked on the door he hoped wholeheartedly for a chirpy reply of "Come in!"

Of course, no such phrase was uttered, and Frank was met with stony silence, alone in the stairwell with Snoopy's smug face taunting him for his timidity. Taking a deep breath, Frank slipped in the door and quickly shut it behind him before he had a chance to look over at the bed and chicken out.

He was careful when he moved the comic pages that covered Gerard's desk to put the coffee down. His eyes skimmed over them quickly ("My name is Annie. Annie Frankenstein.") and he considered joining the legion of people questioning Gerard for abandoning art. _He's so fucking __**good.**_

He turned, arms folded across his chest as he viewed the snoozing mound of Gerard that lay tangled in Star Wars sheets. The only thing propelling him forward was his desire to get to college on time. Had it been any other day he'd have probably just plonked himself on the floor, knees hugged to his chest and waited for the older boy to stir naturally. Instead of mourning this lost opportunity, Frank stalked forward and gently pushed on the mattress with his sneaker.

Gerard's eyebrows tightened marginally, and Frank could have died via mortification at how cute he found it. This early in the morning, Gerard's hair wasn't even masquerading as anything other than a bird's nest, one arm dangling off the side of the bed. His mouth was gaping open, and although he wasn't snoring, the moment at which exhale turned into inhale was clearly audible in his throat, noise puncturing the otherwise silent room. Gerard was by no means an attractive sleeper, but that serene look that Frank supposed came over everyone when they slept seemed to look particularly good on the elder Way brother. Perhaps it stemmed from Gerard's depression. He could look so serious and troubled during the day that the relief slumber carried was especially poignant upon his face.

Frank pushed on the mattress again and added a "Hey".

Gerard woke up this time, groaning and wiping his previously discarded limb across his face. He seemed to stop midway, pausing for a second, and then looked up at Frank from under his forearm.

"...Frank? What are you doing here?"

"I come bearing sweet nectar, naturally" he replied, retrieving the mug and waiting for Gerard to sit up. He did so slowly, sleepy confusion crinkling his face. "Elena said it's to take your pills with."

Gerard paused, hand outstretched as he was reaching for the coffee Snoopy concealed. Elena. _Oh yeah... Right. _He gave one short chuckle, remembering what he'd previously said to his grandmother about Frank, and closed his fingers around the mug, vocalising his thanks. It was really fresh, and sort of stung his throat on the way down, but he held his tongue. Gerard had promised coffee long ago that he would never complain about it.

"Will you pass one to me, please? They're in that bowl over there."

Frank walked over to where Gerard gestured, and recognised them from before. He took one out of the bottle and dropped it into Gerard's palm which immediately popped the capsule into his mouth, chasing it with a shot of caffeine.

This was the first time the two had been in a room together since the night Gerard had got drunk at the Nada Surf show and Frank was relieved that things weren't awkward. Apparently Gerard must have badgered Mikey for Frank's hotmail address, typing out an email as soon as he'd got home that night. It was sitting in Frank's inbox the morning after, both apologetic and blasé. Gerard had suggested they both forget about drunken slurrings, and Frank had been all too eager to agree, claiming deceitfully that he could barely remember what had been said anyway. Things seemed okay mostly, and they had been in contact a couple of times since. They had both been busy at alternating times, however, so meeting in person had been bypassed. Enough was enough for Frank this morning, though. He missed the Ways and was eager to secure some of their time. Frank hadn't hung out with Mikey since that night either, and he was also eager to be caught up to speed on all of Gerard's band developments.

"So, anyway. I'm not stopping long. On my way to college."

Gerard finished his mouthful and set the mug down on a stack of magazines by his bed.

"Rutgers, right? Check you out little boffin. It's like super early."

Frank was about to rib Gerard over the fact that this was a normal time of day for most people to be going out to work, but he thought better of it. Frank had been in bands since he was 11 years old but had never had the guts to quit everything to focus solely on music. He had to admire Gerard for that, if nothing else. He hooked his hands in his back pockets, opting for a safer reply.

"Don't remind me. But I've heard they kick you out if you don't make them think you wanna be there. Apparently the best way to go about that is to show up occasionally."

"Good plan, batman. So, you just popped in to bring me coffee or did you have something else in mind?"

Frank ignored the dull heat that tickled his cheekbones at Gerard's words, his mind twisting a seemingly innocent question into one full of innuendo and implications. He hoped Gerard was doing the same.

"Haven't seen you guys in weeks, man. Thought I'd come and invite you along to a show tonight, entice you out of your Batcave. I mean, it was just an idea, see if you could make it. It's up in Clifton. We're only on support, but the headliners are pretty sweet. And besides, I wanted to catch up, you know? Hoping you've got a lot to tell me."

He looked around the room as he spoke the next part, eyes falling on Gerard's horribly messy bookcase.

"I mean, you guys invite who you want, as well. More the merrier and everything."

He was mentally reordering the shelves as he rocked back and forwards on his heels, so he didn't catch Gerard's facial expression when he replied.

"Umm, sure. I mean, if Mum will let me borrow the car or I can catch a ride then I'm in. I'll talk to Mikey later on, see what he says."

Frank turned now, and grinned.

"Cool. Well. I'd better head off. Forward you the address later?"

"Sure, okay. Umm. I'll come see you out."

Gerard extracted himself from the protective cocoon of his comforter, and picked up his mug to refill. He was wearing a plain ratty grey t-shirt, but Frank noticed that Gerard's navy pyjama bottoms had red bow patterns all over them. They were surely intended for females. He didn't say anything, though, just slid an amused glance up to Gerard's eyes and began to climb the stairs.

Gerard spent the climb convincing himself that he was most certainly _not _staring at Frank's ass; he was merely looking straight ahead. And if Frank's jean-clad backside happened to be in his line of sight, then that simply wasn't his fault. He also mentally thanked the powers that be that he hadn't woken up with morning wood today.

The second the two stepped into the kitchen. Elena spun round and held out a plateful of toast. Frank turned to look at Gerard nervously. He was met with widened eyes and a shrug.

"Don't look at me, man. Frankenberry's my poison."

Elena smiled at the two boys.

"I just thought Frank could do with some breakfast to go. You can eat it on the way?"

He beamed. No one besides himself had made his breakfast in months.

"Elena, you spoil me."

She gestured to the kitchen table, laid out with more toppings and condiments than Frank had ever seen in his life. Before he could even think about it he was leaping forward and turning all the jars, checking out his options and wondering how many slices he could take before it became impolite.

Gerard slid his grandmother a timid grin. She had done what he asked and sent Frank down when he was still asleep. Although he was faintly embarrassed for Frank to have one again caught Gerard in his pyjamas – the red bow design by no means an improvement on the puppies and bones of last times – he was glad to be awake to witness the boy's glee over something as simple as breakfast food.

"I've never seen some of these toppings, man. Wow."

"I don't know how she does it. If I'm hungry I can never find _anything_ and yet look at all this."

"That's because you go straight to the cereal cupboard, my darling" she laughed, pinching one of Gerard's cheeks playfully, before walking forward and placing the plate of toast – four slices of what looked like sourdough – beside Frank's elbow on the table.

Elena looked like she wanted to ruffle Frank's hair, but was mildly afraid of his dreadlocks. Gerard had to hold in a snort as she lowered her hand and patted his shoulder instead.

"They're all for you" she assured him with a warm smile.

Frank grabbed a knife and began buttering his slices, which were miraculously still very warm. _How do grandparents __**do **__this shit? Fuckin' awesome. _Trying really hard not to drool in anticipation, he attempted to shake off the niggle between his shoulder blades that reminded him that Gerard was watching. He soon relaxed when he heard the tinkling sound of dry cereal clinking against a bowl and someone opening the fridge door to retrieve the milk. If he wasn't the only one eating then it made things a little less awkward. Frank ended up with four different toppings; mint-chocolate spread (_How does this even exist? ...I blame Mikey.)_, peanut butter, blackberry jam and marmalade.

When he stood back up, Elena had retrieved a couple of pieces of tissue for Frank to hold the slices in as he left.

"Thank you so much" he gushed as he handed them to her, bending to shrug his backpack onto one shoulder.

Frank turned toward Gerard and had planned to tell him how awesome his grandma was, but when he did so, Gerard had just dribbled pink milk down his chin. Frank bit back his words, stomach clenching pleasantly as Gerard thrust a hand across his mouth, cheeks red with embarrassment.

Giving him time to compose himself, Frank turned his attention back to Elena. He once again communicated his thanks before shrugging to himself and giving her a quick one-armed hug.

Gerard's lungs felt heavy. _Why do I have to be such a social reject? My fucking grandma is better at talking to Frank than I am. _He'd never admit out loud that he was jealous of his own grandmother, but put his bowl down, suddenly irritated by the sight of the little pink frankensteins. _**Frank**__enberry. Wonderful. Maybe I should start eating Count Chocula instead._

"Gotta go, G" Frank said, eyes soft on Gerard's face.

"Yeah. Okay. Umm. Have a nice day?"

Frank's mouth twisted into a smirk.

"If your grandmother wasn't here, I'd be cussing you out right now. I'll send you the details later, okay?"

Elena slid him an appreciative smile and Gerard nodded furiously, fingers twitching against his thigh as if he wasn't sure if he should wave or not. Frank decided to save him the awkwardness and closed the distance between them, throwing an arm around his neck and giving him a hug of his own.

"I'll see you tonight, okay? If you have transpo issues hit me up."

Gerard mumbled "okay" in Frank's ear and as he withdrew Frank beamed again, throwing them both a wave as he turned to leave, toast in the other hand.

"Finish your cereal, okay?"

As soon as he heard the door close Gerard thunked his head on the sideboard.

"Why am I such a loser?"

"You're not a loser" Elena frowned authoritatively. "You're just different."

Gerard groaned. Elena was wonderful, but sometimes even she couldn't avoid the cliché default answers that relatives were obligated to provide. Apart from Mikey, of course. Mikey would have just agreed with him and loped off again.

"I love you, but that doesn't really make me feel any better."

"Frank is hardly a normal boy, Gerard. Strange boys keep strange company." Gerard coughed out a laugh and lifted his head again. "Now finish your cereal."

Sometimes Frank wondered why he ever began college. He skipped more days than he attended, and he never quite felt on the same wavelength as his supposed 'peers'. Frank was an easy-going guy, so he got on okay with his classmates and never had to sit on his own, but it never went beyond small talk and discussing assignments.

Every time they began a new module, the oceans between him and his other classmates became increasingly apparent. Upon receiving a new lecturer they usually had to do this boring-as-shit introduction thing. Starting at one end of the room and ending at the other, each student had to introduce themselves and explain why they had chosen to take the course in the first place and what they wanted to do in the future. The thing that pissed Frank off the most about this exercise was that the tutor doesn't actually _mean _"What do you want to do after you graduate?" What the tutor really means to ask is "What career in this field are you aiming for?"

In Frank's mind, the answers to these two questions may not necessarily be correlates. Frank didn't _want_ a career related to his course. Frank wanted to be in a successful rock band and change people's lives. Frank wanted to put his passion down onto tape and hear kids in England and Japan and fucking Africa singing the words back at him. He wanted to sign his name for tearful fans so many times that the scribble no longer meant anything when he looked at it. He wanted to tour the world for so long that the rancid smell of Jersey made him weep with happiness when he came home. He wanted boys to get _his_ album cover tattooed above their heart.

When he told people this, they usually laughed in his face, so whenever it was Frank's turn to introduce himself he tended to mumble that he didn't know, or make out that it would be an adventure seeing where he ended up. In actuality, he was sick of telling the truth and being met with a placating attitude in response. He was done with people humouring him rather than believing him, so had instead turned to lying and feigning confusion.

He wasn't the sort of douche who announced that his band were very soon to have a record out, and for everyone to buy 10 copies each, because his philosophy was that one day all these people would see his face advertised on the side of stadiums and hate themselves for not making more of an effort.

The second the lecturer announced they could leave Frank leapt out of his seat and threw a cursory goodbye to whoever he'd been sitting next to that day. He hadn't even unpacked his bag at the start of class, so he wasn't delayed by gathering up papers and pens and ended up being the first one out the door by a long shot.

Frank tore through the corridors at a rate of knots, desperate to be somewhere he felt normal again. He was on his way to band practise and couldn't wait to hold his baby in his arms again. He'd been playing around with a few new lyrics recently and today was the day he planned to show the others. He tried to play down how his chest vibrated when he pondered the possibility of a new song in the works. They'd only just finished recording their debut and there was already a new idea? Frank wondered idly if he would be able to convince the label guys to let them go back into the studio to record one more if anything became of it. There had been a distribution delay, and even though the album was supposedly done and dusted, they still had no word on a solid release date.

Twisting his key into the lock on his car door, he chucked his bag onto the passenger seat and took a moment to flick through his cassette tapes before sparking the ignition. He was feeling a bit of Minor Threat today. It wasn't a long drive to band practise, but he whacked the volume up, sort of hoping he'd hit some traffic so he could get through the entire album. The succinct nature of punk songs really leant a hand when Frank took mostly short drives. He sang loudly, warming up his voice by laying down his own vocals over the top of the track.

Sure enough he hit traffic in the clusterfuck of parental cars and the flurry of extra bus services ferrying kids home from school. 'Filler' was just about to finish playing through again as Frank pulled up and parked messily, knowing that hardly anyone used the lot. He could see that the other guys were there already, their cars parked near the van, and got out, wondering if it would be a little too cheeky to have a cigarette before he went in, considering he was already late.

He didn't have long to ponder over it before he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out, he had just enough time to register that it was Mikey calling before he hit green and pressed it to his ear.

"Hey, Mikey, my man!" he greeted happily.

"So now you're dropping over to our house specifically when you know I'll still be sleeping off a hangover. Are we breaking up?"

Because Frank knew Mikey well he could tell it was a joke despite the lack of inflection carried across in his voice.

"Ah, shut up, Gerard's room was closer" he laughed, once again telling his stomach to quit its clenching. He almost hoped he was getting sick again, just so he could rationalise what his body was doing.

"Well I was just calling to tell you we'll both be there tonight, anyway. I'm about to start a short shift at work, so I'll just stick around afterwards as I'll basically be there already. Gerard's catching a ride."

Frank physically pressurised his tongue with his top teeth to stop himself asking who with.

"Sweet. It's gonna be a good show. I've gotta run, though, okay? I'm about to start practise."

They bid their goodbyes and Frank jogged into the building, making a beeline for the room they always rented. He could hear Tim warming up, hitting in a pattern that vaguely reminded him of the album he'd just finished in the car. He didn't look at anyone but his guitar as he walked in, apologising as he moved swiftly.

"Sorry, guys. Class overran and then I hit traffic. What's first on the list?"

He picked up his guitar with gentle hands, slipping the strap over his shoulder immediately. He hated to see her sitting on her own in the corner. _Time to make it up to her_.

They ran through the five-song set they would be playing later on that night, and didn't hit a single hitch. Everyone was playing perfectly, and Frank couldn't wait for the album to drop just so they could schedule some headlining shows.

"Hey, has anyone heard from the label?" he asked hopefully.

"Are you kidding, Iero?" scoffed Hambone. "You're the singer; they're most likely to come to you first. If you haven't heard anything than neither have we."

"Guess you're right. I'd say we should call them again, but I think they got mad last week when Shaun called" Frank laughed.

Shaun flipped them all the bird, but laughed along, remembering how high he'd been when he made that call.

After another perfect run-through of the setlist, the band decided to have a break, cracking open cans of cola and generally catching up. Frank waited until there was a natural lull in conversation before he reached for his bag and pulled out the piece of paper he had been brainstorming on.

"So, guys, has anyone come up with anything new recently?" he asked, knowing full well that his attempt at sounding casual was so lame that he needn't have bothered.

"Ooh, Frankie's not-so-subtly-hinting" Shaun announced, seeing straight through Frank and grinning.

"It's not much yet, you know, but it's a start. I was wondering actually, what do you think the chances are of the label letting us record anything else? I'm not saying we're definitely going to make something of what _I've _got, but you know; if anyone has _anything_."

Everyone seemed to mull it over for a minute or two.

"I don't think we should push it" declared Hambone. "I've been working on little bits and pieces too, but the album's been delayed so long already that I don't know if we should risk it taking even longer."

Everyone seemed to agree, and Frank nodded. It was the sensible option, really. They were so desperate to get the record out that no one dare do anything to potentially increase the delay. He started to reach for his bag again to replace the scrap of paper for safe-keeping. Shaun stopped him.

"Wait, what are you doing? Show us what you've got and then maybe we can put it away for the next album."

Frank beamed, reaching for his guitar. _Time to shine, baby, _

"Like I said, I really don't have a lot right now. But I came up with this little riff which I thought was quite sweet."

He played the short piece, adding in a couple of possible chord changes on a whim.

"And then I just have a tiny snippet of lyrics. I don't have a clue on the actual vocal melody or anything yet, but do you wanna hear?"

Shaun snatched the paper from Frank's hand and decided to read it aloud himself. He cleared his throat mockingly, but when he spoke his voice was level and serious. Shaun read like a poet; Frank had always thought that.

"_Believing in you,_

_With no real reason to._

_Dirty hair and frightened eyes,_

_If they say that I can't see you,_

_Then for you I'm gladly blind."_

He looked up and gave Frank a couple of nods, smile pulled up at one side.

"I really like that last part. Nice word play."

The other two communicated similar sentiments, and they vowed to work on their own stuff soon to try and add to the chords Frank had played them. He sat back and stretched, happiness bubbling in his lungs in response to the support and encouragement of his bandmates. He stood up abruptly, energised by the exchange.

"We gonna practise some more?"

"Yeah, let's run through the set again" called Tim from behind the kit. "But, dude. Hungry. Pizza?"

Frank nodded, already pulling his phone from his pocket.

"Pizza."

Gerard liked to dance. He was almost certain he looked ridiculous while doing so, but when Kaye was dancing with him, pressing her body against his in such an obscene manner he had no presence of mind to be concerned with modesty or self-consciousness. His head already felt hazy, stuffed to the brim with cotton and so heavy that the slightest jolt let it loll, neck too weak to be of support.

The only part of his body Gerard could consciously feel was his mouth. And perhaps his dick, just at the edge of comprehension. Kaye was all over him, hands skittering as if she didn't know where to place them, and licking into his mouth as if he'd just sampled the elixir of life.

They'd hung out a while before Ray came to give them a ride to the show, and ended up drinking while watching a movie. Now they were both drunk to the point where the only thing they wanted in the entire world was an orgasm. In his drunken state Gerard wished they'd just fucked before they left; a thought that would repulse him had he been sober.

He needed it; he needed the friction so bad. He needed to nut more than he needed another drink, and even as he angled his hips he hated the feeling so much that he wanted to strip off his own skin and bathe in acid until he'd singed away all the impurities. He loved the feel of her sliding against him, but he knew how this scene ended and he was never eager to repeat it again.

Even as she took his hand and led him away from the dance floor, the pair grinning all the way, he wished he could just speak up and stop letting the alcohol make the decisions for him. Now that she'd separated their lips all that Gerard could feel was his dick pulsating in his pants and he knew that once again he'd lost the battle against his own body.

The two ended up in the alleyway, dirty and cliché as anything he'd ever read in his mother's romance novels. Nothing good ever happens in the seedy alleyway. This is where the handsome man spins a web of lies to conquer the glory caged behind cotton panties. Had the roles reversed? Was Gerard the helpless damsel? Was Kaye lying through her pretty little teeth?

Even as her hand tugged on Gerard's zipper and crept through his pubic hair to claim her prize, he felt powerless to stop it. What did she want from him? And how did she make it feel so fucking good while she took it?

Everything but his face was frozen to the spot, head heavy against the brick wall, mouth slack and eyes open wide but unseeing. He could feel her breath against his throat, slightly quickened from the exertion of moving her arm so fast. The slide was perfect, her hand smooth and tight. Gerard's stomach dropped quickly and his abs clenched so hard he knew they'd be sore in the morning. He heard himself give a short moan, and Kaye's grip tightened, obviously spurred on by his vocalisation.

His gasp was high-pitched when he came, eyes flickering and elation spreading all over like a warm blanket. She giggled, nuzzling at his neck as her hand gradually slowed. Giving a short laugh Gerard encircled her in his arms, panting into her hair between kisses.

"I love you."

And there it was. Every fucking time. He wasn't surprised when Kaye stiffened, not managing to suppress her sigh.

"Yeah" she breathed against his chest before placing one last kiss there. She broke away then, fastening his pants and shaking her hand as she went back inside.

Gerard rolled his eyes and let his head drop back against the brick. _Useless. Fucking useless. _He could feel his come start to plaster his underwear to his skin and he just couldn't care. Call it punishment. He should have stuck to his guns and never invited her in the first place. The cool air cleared his head a little bit and he found he was finally able to move properly.

Straightening his shirt out, he walked back into the building through the side-door they never should have used in the first place. The heavy beat of the house mix vibrated through the whole building. Thank god. He hadn't missed the beginning of Pencey's set this time. That was something at least.

He made a beeline for Mikey and ordered himself a beer and a shot of whatever the barman had handy.

"Just saw Kaye walk off" Mikey stated. "You guys have a fight?"

"Something like that" he mumbled, before knocking his shot straight back.

Mikey gave his brother an evaluating look and decided to leave it. Kaye had wandered off, and neither of them had any cause to find her again besides making sure she had a ride home. Man, he was going to skin her alive next time he saw her. She and Mikey may be friends outside of her relationship with Gerard, but if it came down to a choice between her or his brother, the question needn't even be asked. The Way brothers were tight, and nothing would ever change that.

He squeezed Gerard's shoulder, and bumped against his side companionably.

"Doesn't matter, anyway. Frank'll be on in a minute."

It kind of embarrassed Gerard at how much that genuinely lifted his spirits, but for once he didn't try and suppress it. He needed that boost right now, and he didn't mind pretending on the surface that he was eager for the band to start playing. After all, the truth – that he was eager to see 1/5 of the band – was more an inaccuracy than a lie.

Ray came back from wherever he'd been hiding, and the three chatted and drank until the lights dropped. Gerard span immediately, losing the thread of whatever they'd been talking about, and glued his eyes to the stage. Gerard had taken the time over the last couple of weeks to listen to the Pencey Prep songs that Mikey had stored on the computer, so he recognised the song they launched into as 'Trying to Escape the Inevitable'. He nodded his head along to the guitar riff just before Frank began to sing, eyes closed in emotion, philtrum resting loosely against the microphone.

He noticed that Frank was still wearing the same clothes he'd worn when he visited that morning. It struck Gerard a little odd. Wouldn't you wear something different onstage? He couldn't say he'd really thought about it before, and made a mental note to revisit the topic later on when he had his closet handy.

The music sounded heavier live than on tape. Gerard mimed along with the words, laughing to himself when he found the lyrics were hitting a little close to home. He was glad he had no idea where Kaye was at this moment in time and kept his eyes on the pint-sized front man.

Frank had noticed the Ways staking out the bar at the beginning of the song and had kept his eyes on them as they moved closer to the stage, still sticking quite close to the sides. He wasn't as surprised to see Gerard this time after Mikey's phone call, but he still threw a grin in that direction, hoping that further encouragement would increase the likelihood of Gerard coming out more often. It didn't take Frank long to notice that Kaye wasn't with them, and if he threw himself into his performance even harder afterwards then that was just a happy coincidence. He was drenched in sweat after the first song, panting into the microphone as the crowd cheered. Frank lifted a cursory grin as he heard Mikey whooping louder than everyone else. Gerard was now leaning with his back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, smile loose and languid. It made Frank's stomach drop, and for the first time since he'd been in the band he wished the set was over already just so he could go over there.

"Thank you" he said into the mic instead, tuning his guitar for the next song. "Thanks for coming down so early to support the local boys. We're in a band called Pencey Prep."

He paused then, to allow the smattering of applause and a couple of whoops that came in response.

"Right, we've only got a few more songs for you tonight, but we're gonna try and warm you up the best we can. This song is called 'Yesterday'."

As the song began, Gerard scanned the room, checking out the positive reactions and hoping to God or Vishnu or fucking Batman that the reaction to his own band would be even half as good as all the smiling faces dictated. That was the wonderful thing about Jersey; everyone _did_ come down to support the local bands. People may look upon their tiny state with a measured amount of apprehension, maybe even disgust, but Jersey had produced some pretty fucking substantial acts. Gerard could only hope that one day Pencey Prep and his own as-yet-unnamed band could be classified in such a manner.

Maybe one day they could break out of Jersey, go somewhere else, like the South Coast. Maybe Gerard's band could open for Frank's. Maybe they could go on tour together. How fucking amazing would that be? Gerard couldn't think of any other band he'd rather tour with. Well, you know, besides Maiden and Morrissey and The Misfits. He could learn so much from Frank as a front man. He could teach Gerard how to put up that emotional barrier; how to perform to the best of his ability despite judgemental looks.

He watched closely for the rest of the set, noting the way Frank's eyes crinkled during emotional lines and how he threw himself into the fast pace and raw power of P.S Don't Write. _And that screaming thing, too. _Maybe Frank could teach Gerard how to scream properly. He was only just beginning to get to know his own voice. He had no idea what he could do and what he couldn't yet. It's hard to accurately judge your own voice amidst the poor acoustics of a dusty basement.

Gerard clapped vigorously when Pencey finished off their set, leaving the vocal appreciation down to Mikey. Just before leaving the stage Frank aimed a meaningful look in their direction, and Gerard nodded in return, hoping that it was visible from the other end of the room. He figured the band had to pack up before the headliners came on, and Frank was silently asking him to wait around. Not that Frank really needed to ask. Gerard wasn't going anywhere.

He gave a quick glance around the room, and caught Kaye's eye while she was talking to a female friend he vaguely recognised. She looked up almost guiltily, but then tried on a small smile for size. He kept his face blank, looking away again soon after. She didn't need to know that his heart jumped every time she smiled at him, regardless of whether he was angry at her or not. _Like she needs __**more **__power over me._ He was pissed off at himself, actually. Why couldn't he show his irritation appropriately? His body wasn't on his side it seemed, but he ordered another beer, eager to try and keep it somewhat happy if not cooperative. His head was still cloudy, but he felt more in control than he had earlier, and he just knew that he'd berate himself in the morning for being such a typical guy earlier on.

"Sorry I haven't been able to meet up with you guys anytime this week" said Ray, nudging Gerard's arm to get his attention.

Gerard waved nonchalantly as he finished his mouthful of beer, metallic tang familiar and comforting.

"No worries. We need to scrape the money together to rent a practise room first anyway. We could only afford a couple of days, and both of us are pretty broke right now. His attic isn't really big enough now that he's moved all the recording equipment in."

"Well, I'll start saving" Ray smiled.

Gerard returned the expression, grateful that Ray had agreed to attend a practise session in the first place. They'd known each other for a number of years, but weren't especially close. He was surprised that Ray had answered the phone so readily, let alone express enthusiasm and offer his services as soon as he was available. The first night Gerard saw Ray play guitar he decided immediately that the guy was the best Jersey had to offer. He had clearly been born to play, talent practically oozing from his fingertips. He might not look like your typical guitar god, frizzy mop of hair propped on top of his scalp, and glasses even geekier than Mikey's perched on his nose, but Gerard was certain he'd never seen anyone better. The idea that Ray had even agreed to attend a practise session blew his mind and he felt grateful to have caught him at the right time.

He'd called Ray the day after he last saw Pencey play. They'd taken a minute to catch up before Gerard launched in with the hard hitting questions. Ray had told him that he'd been playing drums for a band but that it was nothing serious. Gerard didn't care if it was serious or just a bit of fun in someone's garage, Ray Toro could not play the fucking drums. No way. There was no way a man with talent of that calibre should be discarding the instrument he was born to play and trying out the drums as if he thought that was _okay_, that it was _acceptable_ that he do that. Immediately Gerard had asked Ray if he was happy. It took a moment of silence and reluctance, but Ray had eventually admitted that no, he felt like he was going nowhere, and did Gerard actually have a point to all this, because this conversation is a little fucking depressing, okay. Gerard told Ray about the song, which he'd since named Skylines and Turnstiles. He explained that he wanted to really try to make this work; that he already had a drummer onside, and stressed as much as possible what a terrible guitar player he was in an attempt to garner pity. Thankfully, Ray had pretty much agreed immediately to come try it out. How could it hurt? Who knows, this could be the salvation they'd all been looking for.

The next day Gerard had typed out his lyrics and sent them along to Ray, receiving a reply full of praise and eagerness to start jamming together. That day needed to come pretty fucking soon.

Gerard spotted Shaun first, who came straight over and shook his hand warmly. Gerard congratulated him on the performance, enthusing that he'd loved the setlist and the energy.

"Speaking of the energy" Shaun laughed. "Here he is."

Sure enough, Frank appeared at their side, grinning so hard Gerard feared his smile would split his face. It was tough to resist and soon enough he was easily smiling along.

"Hi."

Frank rubbed a hand over his face, rounding up all the stray sweat before he answered.

"Hey."

Adrenaline propelled him forward, and suddenly a verbal greeting wasn't enough anymore. Raising ever so slightly onto tiptoes, Frank threw his arms around Gerard, initiating a hug. This time Gerard was barely even surprised and it took but a split-second before he hugged back.

The second the embrace tightened, Gerard suddenly remembered how upset he was. Apparently physical contact was the key to unlocking his floodgates, and he closed his eyes, afraid that the growing moisture might escape.

Since when did telling someone you love them become acceptable grounds for an argument, anyway? Kaye was always telling him to wait, to just be patient, Gerard. The problem was he didn't know what he was waiting for anymore. She was scared; he understood that. But he was just trying to make her feel safe. Gerard was well aware how inadequate a boyfriend he would be, but he was trying his fucking hardest just to make her see that he wasn't going anywhere. He was almost done. He was so close to just giving up.

Frank attempted to draw back, mildly embarrassed at the vigour with which he'd thrown himself into the embrace, but he found himself glued to the spot by Gerard's arms. The older boy's chin rested on Frank's shoulder, and all he could do was outwardly give an awkward chuckle and a roll of the eyes whilst surreptitiously clutching Gerard to him even tighter.

"Hey, what's up?" Frank asked, once Gerard had finally let go.

Gerard's eyes widened, as his body took the inopportune moment to remind him of his discomfort. _I'm covered in my own come, how are you? _He tried to work out if there was a way of checking it hadn't seeped through his jeans without looking like he was touching himself. His only response to Frank's question was a series of blinks.

"He had a fight with Kaye" answered Mikey, moving his hand in a cut-throat gesture to halt the topic from going further.

"Oh." Frank scoured his brain for something appropriate to retort with without allowing himself to sound glad. He came up pretty blank. "Women, eh?"

Gerard barked out a short laugh before he had time to give his body approval to do so. Frank was ecstatic to have provoked a positive reaction and practically danced on the spot.

"Well tonight isn't about talking girls, anyway. Tonight is about talking band."

Both boys grinned at each other.

"Need another drink?" Frank asked. "Come on."

"Hey, what about us?" called Mikey as they walked away.

Frank simply flipped him the bird without even turning back. He owed Gerard a fuck-tonne of drinks from last time, anyway.

When they were settled with fresh bottles Frank decided to just quickly revisit the girl problem again. Gerard had blatantly needed to be held. There was no use pretending he didn't want to know why, even if just to gather ammunition against Kaye.

"...G, you know you can tell me. What happened with Kaye? Did she sleep with someone else?"

Frank looked suitably ashamed after asking, so Gerard had no doubt that he hadn't meant it to sound that harsh. The only harsh thing about it was that the only answer how could give to that question is 'I don't know'.

"I wanna talk about the band."

Frank let it go, figuring he shouldn't have asked in the first place. He nodded, happy with this direction of conversation.

"So do I. It's been like 3 weeks. Fill me in."

Gerard took a deep breath, ready to expel the information. He told Frank firstly how he and Otter had rented out a room to play in for a couple of days, wiping out practically all the money they had left until next payday. But their time there had been productive. Gerard had borrowed an electric guitar from one of Mikey's friends and spent the day tweaking his original guitar parts to fit the sound of the instrument it had been intended for, whilst Matt figured out the beat. Since then he'd had began working on some more lyrics and had been belting his little heart out at home to get used to the sound of his own voice. Gerard began to explain that the bespectacled stranger they had been hanging out with all evening was hopefully going to take over on the guitar front and get involved full-time.

"I just called him up, asked him if he was happy, and when he said no, I sort of said 'no, neither are we. Just come try this with us' you know?"

Frank nodded, sipping on his drink and watching Gerard talk animatedly, using his hands almost as props.

"But anyway, he used to be in this band called The Rodneys who used to play all around here, and he's so amazing. I can't believe he's even agreed to a practise session with us."

Frank held up a hand to signal Gerard to halt.

"Hold up. The _Rodneys?_ Surely that's not even real."

The bridge of Gerard's nose crinkled.

"Of course it's real, what are you talking about?"

Frank gave him a measured look.

"Hello. My name is Frank. Nice to meet you. If I'm not _playing_ shows, I'm _attending _shows. I would have definitely remembered such a ridiculous band name."

"I think you're missing the point."

"And _I _think you're in denial about the dumb name."

"Shut the fuck up" Gerard laughed, punching Frank in the arm. "The point is he's the fucking best guitar player I've ever seen."

Frank looked down at his lap, knowing that he shouldn't be reacting, but finding it altogether too difficult to pretend he wasn't. It took Gerard a second to realise what he'd said.

"Wait. I mean. No. I mean besides you. You play in completely different ways, you can't even be compared. You know I meant besides you, right? You know what I think about you, don't you, Frankie?"

Frank looked up from his bottle to catch the truthfulness in Gerard's eyes. The guy was drunk, but once again his eyes still swam with honesty. Yeah, he knew. His mind cast back to Gerard's basement, legs crossed on the floor, handling a guitar that was not his own, playing music that was not his own. He remembered what Gerard had said that first time. _Perfect. _

"Yeah" he smiled, looking away quickly before he began to blush.

Gerard still felt bad, it seemed, and leant forward slightly, softening his voice.

"I wish it could be you. You know that too, right?"

Gerard could hardly stand the innocence of Frank's eyes as he looked up hopefully through his lashes. He didn't speak, but just stared for a while. He seemed to be searching for the answer in Gerard's eyes, and eventually found it, nodded softly. Gerard turned round on his barstool, leaning backwards and resting his back against Frank's chest.

Somehow Frank wasn't even surprised, and adjusted his posture slightly so as not to tip them both over. Neither said anything for a couple of minutes, or even changed their facial expression. Frank was first to break the silence.

"We have a practise space. We paid 6 months upfront. We have it for 6 hours every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday." He paused, waiting to see if Gerard would say anything. He continued when there was nothing. "We're not using up all our time at the moment. We're sort of in stasis while we're waiting for the record to drop. Mostly we order take-out and piss around. ...You guys should come share."

Frank felt Gerard's breathing hitch against him, and amended his statement. He wasn't giving Gerard room to decline.

"You guys are going to share with us."

When Frank looked up, he realised Gerard's breathing hadn't hitched because he was excited, but because Kaye was standing in front of them, wearing a sheepish expression over her shift dress.

"Gerard...G, can we talk?"

Frank was surprised that Gerard had stayed slumped against him so far and fully expected him to move now. When that movement didn't come, an imaginary air-punch ran through his head before he could stop it.

"No" Gerard sighed. "Not now. Band's about to start. See you afterwards."

Almost as if on cue, the lights dropped, and sure enough the band were walking on, striking their first notes. Frank was incredibly impressed by Gerard's time judgement. Kaye didn't even try to change his mind, simply spun and pushed her way into the crowd, heading directly for the mosh pit as far as he could see.

"Thank you."

It was only because Gerard was pressed so close that Frank had even heard him above the music, as he hadn't raised his voice. He didn't reply, but simply placed a hand on Gerard's hip, first two fingers tapping along to the beat.

Gerard couldn't believe what Frank had just said. He wanted Gerard's band to share the same practise space. He didn't know if Pencey Prep would want any money towards the cost or not, but even if they did it would be at a vastly reduced price, considering the number of people who would be splitting it. Maybe he could learn all those things from Frank after all.

Kaye could wait until later. Gerard wasn't moving right now, he was comfy as fuck. His stomach was flopping around like a fish out of water, but the feel of Frank's fingers dancing rhythmically across his love handles was strangely soothing. It was almost enough to make him forget about his sticky underwear yanking on his pubes every time he shifted his weight. Almost.


	12. Take 1

**Chapter 12 – Take 1**

"Are you _sure_ we can't stop at Dunkin' Donuts?" Gerard groaned, dropping his head against the window of the car.

"Gerard, your brother is late for work as it is." Donna scolded. "If you'd have been ready on time maybe that would have been an option."

"He was too busy doing his hair" Mikey sniggered from the front seat.

Gerard imagined that most mothers in this scenario would stick up for her eldest son, rather than chipping in with "Makes a change" as his did.

He wished he and Mikey were the kind of siblings who could sort their problems out with their fists, however they'd never once been violent to one another – save for the unfortunate lightsaber meets tooth incident – so he settled for scowling in the direction of the passenger side wing mirror.

There was too much effort to be wasted in arguing his case, especially when he could smell the fresh jasmine scent of his shampoo against his cheek. He was far too nervous to argue. He was about to go into a practise studio with a _real _band; with _real _musicians.

Pencey were going to be getting real big any day now. The second that record hit, Gerard was fully prepared to never see Frank again. The prospect made his insides go all gloopy, but that band deserved the accolades that lay in their future. Otter had drummed for more bands than Gerard could keep track of, and Ray Toro was a genius, no matter how modest he wanted to play it. What did Gerard have under his musical belt? Ray Gun fucking Jones? He was essentially throwing himself to the lions, and he was shit-scared of getting torn apart by their experienced canines.

He slid a look over to his battered guitar next to him on the back seat, fighting the urge to vomit. Perhaps he could bribe Frank into teaching Toro the Skylines chords so that he didn't have to do it himself. Besides the fact that he had no money to use for bribery but the small change that he saved for caffeine emergencies, and nothing to offer as trade that would be of use to anyone.

"Is this it, honey?" asked Donna, pausing at the side of the road.

Gerard looked up, momentarily worried that he'd forgotten the name of the place Frank had sent via email, but all aspersions were discarded when he noticed that Ray had already arrived, and was kicking stones around the parking lot.

"Yeah" he sighed. _Don't sound __**too**__ excited, Gerard, Jesus fuck. _

Opening the door, he climbed out, reaching back in for the guitar.

"Good luck, bro" called Mikey. He sounded sincere, and Gerard wished he could retract the scowl from earlier. He smiled weakly.

"Thanks. Have a good day at work. Bye, Mum."

As the car pulled away, Gerard crossed the road, guitar neck gripped in one hand, and waved to Ray as he approached.

"Hey, man, thanks for coming."

"Told you I would" grinned Ray, going for an awkward handshake.

Gerard laid the guitar down carefully, and the two settled into easy conversation as they waited for the others. It wasn't long before Otter rounded the corner, baseball cap on backwards, twirling a drumstick in one hand. He looked the part and Gerard couldn't help beaming.

Matt and Ray got reacquainted, and then they waited for the band to arrive.

"I must admit, I'm a little sceptical" hedged Ray. "That Frank guy seemed a little bit weird."

Gerard's breathing went a little erratic. This band thing wasn't solid yet; he was still jumpy at every tiny hitch that threatened to collapse it all.

"He spent 10 minutes last night taking the piss out of my old band name. I mean, _10 whole minutes_. How is that even possible?"

Gerard plonked himself down on the gravel and looked up sheepishly, unsure how to get Ray back onside.

"What was the band name?" Matt asked casually.

"The Rodneys" Gerard mumbled, frowning and picking at a piece of lint resting on the knee of his dark jeans.

Matt snorted.

"I think I'm gonna like this Frank guy."

Gerard looked up, scoping out Ray's reaction. If he felt like everyone was taking the piss, there was no way he'd stick around to become bandmates. Gerard would hardly be able to stand it if Ray walked away now before they'd even had a practise together. To his incredible relief, a short "ha" bubbled out of Ray's throat and he fiddled with his glasses.

"Yeah, okay, okay. Give me a break, _I _didn't pick it!"

Matt turned his gaze on Gerard's grateful eyes.

"Hey, G. What are you calling this one?"

Gerard blinked up at the two, blank look plastered on his face. It hadn't even occurred to him that he'd have to name this, this _thing_ they were doing. This thing which didn't even officially have a third member yet. Surely it was too early to be naming it, if it could all too soon be taken away. That's what his mum had taught him that time he and Mikey had found an injured dove in the yard while playing 'Hoth'. Little 10 year old Gerard had gushed out the list of possible names.

"_Emily. James? Maybe Evelyn. I can't choose, Mum."_

Donna had replied, softly but sternly that Gerard wasn't allowed to name the beautiful bird he had rescued from the snow. He'd whined but his mother had held her ground. After a brief conversation, in which Donna had to repeatedly remind Gerard that he couldn't keep it, she insisted that he wasn't allowed to name her. She wouldn't be there long, and if he named her, he would miss her when she got better and left.

After pouting, insisting that yes, he _did_ want her to get better, he relented and left the dove nameless. He'd brought her fresh berries every hour and treasured the time they had. Sure enough he only cried for a day or two once she'd flown off, and within a week had instead turned his hand to drawing her from memory, fussing over the details of her beak rather than sobbing that he missed her.

Was this the same method he should adopt now? Maybe he should just make the most of the time he had doing this band thing, and only name it once he was sure it was sticking around awhile.

"I, uhh...well, it's early days yet" he smiled timidly, eyes fixed firmly to the floor.

"Well, give it some thought, man" Ray replied, craning his neck. "Hey, is that them?"

Sure enough the van was then pulling into the lot, music blasting so loud Gerard could feel it vibrate against his skin through the ground. He stood up, nerves crashing back into his chest. Five dudes piled out of the van, waving over to the other occupants of the building foreground. Hambone went around to the rear and opened up the back of the van. After a lot of clattering, Frank emerged, hopping out, holding both his guitar and a stand.

"Jesus, Iero, can't you get out using the door like a normal person?" moaned Tim, concerned that most of the clattering sounds were born of a Frank-meets-drum kit collision.

Jogging over, Frank grinned at the three of them.

"Hi, guys. Come with me and I'll show you the room."

There was a man reading a guitar magazine at what looked like an oversized high school desk, who glanced up when the doors opened.

"33a, Hambone?" he asked, obviously recognising Frank as a regular. Frank barely had to nod in agreement before the unorthodox receptionist was writing something down – presumably checking them in – and lifting up the desk lid to retrieve a set of keys.

Gerard was pretty impressed. The building was a total TARDIS. There was only one floor, but Frank led them through what felt like a mile of corridor, and past far more doors than Gerard would have guessed existed from looking at the building's exterior. Inserting the key into 33a, Frank nudged the door open with his knee.

"Come on in" he told them, going straight to one corner to put his guitar stand down, placing his instrument in its loving grip.

He was almost at the door again before Gerard could nervously interrupt.

"Hey, uhh, do you need any help?"

Frank blinked, like he hadn't even considered that they would want to offer their assistance.

"Umm, sure. I need you to come with me to the desk actually, G. You guys make yourselves comfortable" he said to the others. "There's a big old janitor's closet down the hall. Grab a few more chairs so we have enough."

Gerard tried to memorise the way back to the reception desk where Frank informed the man that Gerard would now also be using the room reserved under Hambone's name. The dude nodded, scrutinising Gerard's face as if committing it to memory.

"Thank you... for this" Gerard said, as they made their way back to the van.

Frank turned and really looked at Gerard for the first time since arriving. His eyes were nervous but fresh, as if he'd got a good night's sleep in preparation to focus. His skin was clear, too; hair clean, possibly with added product. Frank could practically taste Gerard's enthusiasm and he was definitely into it. It was like Frank was watching Gerard, I don't know, _blossom_ or something. If there was a way he could keep encouraging that growth he would exhaust every avenue.

"It's honestly my pleasure" he smiled.

"Gerard, over here" called Shaun as soon as they got closer to the van. Frank stood back and watched as Gerard stepped forward to help unload and carry the keyboard. Shaun was smiling, making jokes, and Frank was really happy to see that Gerard was making friends so easily. Shaun was a good guy; loyal, dependable. Suggesting he play keyboard for Pencey was probably one of the best ideas Frank had ever had. It looked like he and Gerard were getting on like a house on fire (and seriously, what was even _with _that saying? _A burning house doesn't seem very friendly to me._)

"Did you get my email?"

Gerard looked up from focusing on his foot placement and nodded, still smiling, wide and genuine.

"Yeah, thanks. It was sweet of you." Gerard started shuffling backwards, grip tight on his end of the keyboard. "It's really good of you guys to share your space with us. I really appreciate it."

"Everyone needs to start somewhere, you know? I remember when that was us. It wasn't that long ago either" Shaun chuckled.

Frank watched the two make their way into the building, chatting easily, laughing as the keyboard almost toppled. It made him smile, to see Gerard talking so easily with someone. He knew it was difficult; Gerard was probably half sick with nerves already by now.

When Frank helped Tim carry the rest of the drum kit inside he shut the door behind him and surveyed the room's occupants. Nail and Hambone were hanging out of the window having a smoke. Matt and Tim were setting up the kit together, Shaun hovering close by. Ray was keeping to himself, feet curled up beneath him as he checked that his guitar was in tune. Frank would have laid down money that the guitar was in pristine condition. Ray Toro didn't look like the sort of guy who let his guitar get more than a fraction out of tune.

Gerard sat alone on the beaten up sofa, his own guitar perched half-heartedly in his lap. His eyes flitted between Ray Toro and where his own slender fingers tickled the head of his guitar as if he felt he should be doing the same but didn't quite know where to start. Ray was in his own world, spending a couple of minutes just him and his instrument. Frank could dig that. He knew how it felt, especially as Ray was effectively about to audition. He probably needed to like, get in the zone or whatever, not present enough to notice Gerard's silent plea via puppy-dog-eye language. Frank smirked and decided to put the poor guy out of his misery.

"Hey, scoot up."

Gerard looked up, startled, but complied, shifting himself up against the arm of the sofa. Frank held out his hand, gesturing for the guitar.

"Gerard, do you actually know what you're doing?"

Gerard's cheeks coloured, and he handed it over silently, shoulders hunched in humiliation. _Great_. The embarrassment was already beginning and no one had played a note of actual music yet.

"You just need to know what you're listening for" Frank said, kindly. "You'll pick it up soon enough."

Gerard watched Frank drag his thumb swiftly across all six strings, comfortable focus coating his features. For a split second Gerard wished Frank was an animal, just so he could visibly see his ears prick up while he acoustically analysed the notes. Frank strummed a second time before slowing his movements and plucking each string individually. Gerard stared blankly, unable to tell whether it needed tuning or not. Frank returned to the 4th string – Gerard gave up trying to work out what note it represented – and plucked a further two times, sliding a smile up to Gerard that was probably supposed to communicate "this one". His other hand reached up to tighten the appropriate peg as he continued to pluck, listening attentively for the changes. He finished with one more strum, and finding it satisfactory, passed it back to Gerard with a smile. Gerard took a deep breath.

"Frank, I was wondering if you-"

"No, G, you'll be fine. Practise while we're rehearsing and then you can borrow my electric once we're done. You'll be great."

Finishing off with a smile and a tight squeeze of Gerard's shoulder, Frank pushed off the sofa and made his way over to his bandmates. Although he consciously tried to keep his tone friendly, Frank was well aware that his response had come off a little clipped. Gerard could perceive it as harsh as he liked, but Frank was playing parent here – it was for Gerard's own good. If he really wanted this band thing to work out he needed to be able to perform in front of a group of friends, or else he'd never survive playing even the smallest club. Frank wasn't about to sit back and watch that happen without doing anything to help.

"What's up first?" asked Hambone.

Frank ducked his head through the strap of his guitar and assumed the position, tightening his mic stand. He looked around hopefully.

"Can we do 'Attention Reader'?" Frank asked.

"Frankie, it doesn't really fit with our sound. You know that" Neil explained patiently. "How about 'Secret Goldfish'?"

Gerard watched as Frank nodded, eyelashes fluttering close to his cheek as he kept his eyes downcast. Shaun caught Gerard looking and shrugged, mouth tight at one side. The second the song kicked in though, Frank seemed to shake it off, giving it his all, the only way he knew how to do. Gerard sat back for a couple of songs, arms loosely folded, watching in awe, grinning whenever Frank threw a funny face in his direction.

By the time Pencey had hit a comfortable stride and were just starting on 'Don Quixote', Gerard curled his hand around the fretboard of his acoustic, and reasoned with himself that if he practised now he would probably be the only one to hear himself if he messed up. He took a deep breath and allowed Frank's singing voice to fade into the background. He really had been practising, and remembered all of the chords but one. He lifted up to remove a scrap of paper from his back pocket to pick the missing one from his hasty doodles. He rolled his eyes at himself when he noticed that one finger had only slightly been out of place. He fingered them all in order once more from memory, and after mentally patting himself on the back for being correct, decided it was time to practise properly. Looking around the room once quickly, he saw that Ray was watching, shooting a happy thumbs up, and in the midst of singing, Frank aimed a wink in Gerard's direction.

He began to practise quietly, still anxious for anyone to hear him mess up. He whispered the lyrics along to himself, now exceedingly confident in the memory of the words and vocal pattern. When Pencey came to a halt between songs, he did too, flattening his hand against the strings and trying desperately to make his pause look natural. He wasn't fooling anyone, of course, but they were all too courteous to call him on it, for which he was imminently grateful.

When they restarted, Gerard was able to pick straight back up from where he'd left off, and got through to the end with only a couple of minor mistakes. All he asked for was the ability to gloss over such errors when he debuted the songs to Ray, rather than choking and fumbling with his fat fingers whilst apologising profusely.

His heart hadn't stopped racing from the second he'd stepped out of the car, and it incredibly managed to pick up speed once Pencey decided to call a break. Gerard felt like all eyes were immediately on him, even though it wasn't like that at all. Frank made a conscious effort to look nonchalant as he handed Gerard his guitar, dragging his amp behind him, and Gerard wasn't sure whether to take that as comforting or not. He gripped the instrument tightly, suddenly afraid that he might somehow fucking break it or something.

After ridding himself of his guitar, Frank went straight to the water cooler in the corner, pointedly paying no mind to the bundle of nerves occupying the sofa. Shaun appeared at his side and bumped Frank's hip companionably. He too reached for some water, and kept his voice low when he spoke.

"I can't wait. He's gonna be fine, Frank." Frank pointedly looked ahead, knowing that there wasn't even any point giving the faux-questioning look. Shaun bumped him again. "Quit it. He's nervous enough for the two of you. It's gonna be fine."

Frank couldn't help but smile into his cup as Shaun clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, He was right, of course. And if Gerard really got in a mess, he could always step in as a last resort.

Everyone seemed to be milling about doing their own thing – Frank getting a drink, Tim playing with his cell phone, Neil lighting up a smoke, Hambone leaving to piss. Gerard decided to take advantage of the slight bustle and cleared his throat in Ray's direction.

"So, did you want to umm – I mean, I can show you what I've got so far?"

Ray nodded eagerly, and relocated, taking the seat next to Gerard on the sofa, his own guitar cradled lovingly in his arms. Otter left Tim with the drum kit and took the chair Ray had previously occupied, spinning it around and laying his arms on the backrest. Gerard's hands had begun to shake, and his lungs went into overdrive, interrupting the steady flow of his speech.

"I, uhh" – he paused, insatiable need to swallow – "I'm not great, okay? Don't have high expectations."

Ray grinned, full lips pulling into his cheeks.

"Well of course you're not. That's why you need me."

Gerard couldn't help but bust out a grin too, showing off his teeth and pushing back a fraction of his self-consciousness. Of course Ray was right. If Gerard could fucking shred, there would be no need for this meeting at all.

He lifted his eyes up to the pair respectively and gave a short nod, indicating that he was about to start. Otter gave a thumbs up, whilst Ray cradled his chin between his index finger and thumb, offering up his full attention.

"Do you want to run through the whole thing for me once? And then we can work on the specifics afterwards."

It made Gerard's heart jump in his chest that Ray made it sound like he was already in, and decided that the time for thinking was done. He took a deep breath and put his fingers to the strings, doing his best to forget that Pencey Prep were even in the room.

Frank fought not to turn around when he heard the unmistakable sound of his guitar start to sing. It was like a mother inherently being able to pick out her child from a mass of wailing newborns. He wanted to watch; see Gerard's fingers work over his instrument. But he also didn't want to put him off. Frank stared at the wall, ears honing in. He remembered the way the song sounded, and was pleased to find that both his and Gerard's instincts had been pretty spot-on. It sounded so much better on an electric.

Frank listened to the opening notes – dimly aware of his stomach doing jumping jacks – and sighed when Gerard's voice kicked in, relieved to hear him sing with as much emotion and boldness as he had that first time in the basement. The presence of seven other people in the room had not dampened his passion, and he belted it out, voice raw and perfect. Gerard wasn't stalling. He was pushing through, both voice and music working together in mostly harmony.

_He's been practising _Frank thought with a jolt. _He's really serious about this. _He couldn't hold it back any longer, and turned so that he could watch. He found he wasn't the only one. Matt looked over the top of the chair in what Frank perceived as pride; Ray watched attentively, seemingly hooked, eyes wide and a little disbelieving. Frank hoped it was in a good way. Shaun and Hambone stood together, small smiles tugging at their lips, eyes transfixed. He beamed at the reaction Gerard was receiving and let his eyes fall in the same place the rest of the audience were looking.

Gerard had tucked his hair behind his ears so that it didn't fall over his eyes and create even more of a handicap on his guitar inaptitude. A small rumple had formed between his eyebrows in concentration and his mouth still gaped wide as he sang, pushing every sliver of effort he possessed through the gap in his lips. His voice had improved since last time too; although he was no Mariah Carey, his voice didn't shake as much as before, holding tune slightly better, although improvements could obviously be made. Considering it was his second run-through in front of other people, Frank was blown away. The first time he'd tried to play for his Mum he basically mumbled his way through, afraid to belt it out. Gerard had seemingly skipped that phase altogether, becoming increasingly more comfortable with his voice. It in turn made him easier to listen to, like he was inviting you in rather than pushing you away. Frank didn't even try and fight the smile from his lips, thinking himself lucky to have been able to help in some way; to watch this come together. If Ray turned away after this, Frank would be hard-pushed not to knock him the fuck out.

Gerard only paused through error a couple of times, though neither as jarring as those he'd made the first time he'd played for Frank. As he sang out the final line, letting the last note drop off, he nervously lifted his eyes to find all occupants of the room staring in his direction.

It fell silent, sort of like the room should burst into a riotous round of applause akin to a cheesy movie. Instead, he was met with quiet smiles and a series of blinks. Gerard, of course, was fearful that the silence would be broken when someone simply couldn't hold their laughter back anymore. Ray coughed and rescued him, rearranging his own guitar into position in his lap.

"So, was this the first one?"

"Oh. Uhh, yeah."

And that was that. Frank smiled from the corner, flipping off Shaun when he shot over an overenthusiastic grin and thumbs up. The rest of Pencey decided to take a walk before their second run-through, leaving Frank eavesdropping in the corner whilst he continued to work on the snippet of lyrics from the previous week.

Gerard showed Ray the chords he had chosen so far, half-scatting along haphazardly just to give the feel of vocals on top, whilst Matt sat and listened, mentally mapping the beat he could lay down beneath it. At one point, in reference to the bridge section before the final double chorus, Ray suggested a change. He worked on it for a couple of minutes, eventually coming out with a more delicate layer that Frank wouldn't have thought up in his wildest dreams. It fit the tone of the song perfectly, and Frank had to admit that Gerard had chosen a great guitar player to approach for help.

They ran through that part a couple of times, letting Ray get accustomed to the new section, Gerard adjusting his pitch slightly. It sounded great, and Frank couldn't suppress his grin, sitting in the corner doodling, concentration on the other three occupants rather than the piece of paper right in front of him.

Ray and Otter took to working together then, firming up the rhythm and running through without the vocal melody. It all seemed to be coming together smoothly, and Frank sort of startled when he noticed a pair of scuffed sneakers nudging at his knee. He climbed to his feet where Gerard was gingerly holding out the guitar.

"Thank you. I think we, uhh, I think Ray's got it down."

Frank cast a glance over to the bespectacled musician standing in front of the drum kit, concentration plain on his face. He looked back to Gerard and found his expression hopeful, as if he was looking for Frank's approval or permission. He smiled in response.

"Yeah, I think he does." He took the guitar back and set it into the nearby stand. "It's sounding great, G. That part he added sounded ace. You made the right choice."

Gerard flinched, as if Frank had tucked a tuft of malice between his words. It really wasn't the case. Ray was doing an amazing job already, and seemed just as into this as everyone else. He also seemed extremely determined and methodical; just the sort of bandmate Gerard would need to keep him on track.

"I want you to win, okay? Don't give up on this."

Gerard seemed to have to work at smoothing out the crease between his brows, but he managed it, loosening up just enough to give Frank a small smile before nodding and gesturing towards the drum kit, making his way back over there wordlessly. Frank chuckled to himself a little as he watched Gerard struggle with adjusting the microphone height before he settled back down and lit up a smoke, not even bothering to pretend he wasn't watching anymore. Just as the trio began their first run through with guitar, drum and vocals all together, the doors opened and the rest of Frank's band filed in.

Gerard faltered slightly, eyes like saucers, letting his voice fall off a little. They seemed to notice that their entrance had disrupted the flow a little and clapped along in time, smiles wide on their faces. Hambone pulled a party popper that he must have just bought out of his pocket and shot it at Gerard, who grinned around his lyrics and bent to pick up the streamers, placing them on top of his head. Gerard allowed his voice to come back to normal volume, brutally sounding out the chorus, face contorted in emotion. Shaun took a seat on the floor next to Frank.

"We're taking them on tour one day, right?"

Frank simply laughed and continued to stare ahead, watching raptly, hoping against all hope that Gerard would make sure it got to that point.


	13. The World According to Gerard Way

**Chapter 13 – The World According to Gerard Way**

Gerard expelled a large sigh and crossed his arms, eyes once more flitting to the clock hanging on the opposite wall. Five minutes had never seemed so tiresome before now. He'd been stood in the same spot for pretty much an hour. If he wasn't the only employee left in the literary department he'd have bailed long ago on a quest to find Mikey amongst the CDs. The shelves were full to bursting with stock already, and his section was so empty he could hear a pin drop. Usually it wasn't so bad. Working in the books department tended to offer an immediate solution to boredom, but not even fiction could save him now. There was a perfectly good graphic novels section – always kept in pristine condition if Gerard had anything to do with it – but he was far beyond that point. He was so bored he could barely think.

He rolled the balls of his feet experimentally, attempting to gauge just how badly his feet would hurt by the time he stumbled home. It was 15:56 according to the mocking tick of the Peter Pan clock before him, but Gerard's day would be far from over once he left work. He was heading straight to band practise after dropping Mikey off, and then it was on to Eyeball Records for the festivities. Frank had turned 20 three days ago, and his label had insisted he hold a birthday shindig at their place. Gerard hadn't been out in a couple of weeks, but this promised to be a good night. Plenty of people he knew would be in attendance, he was in dire need of a double digit number of drinks, and hey, it would probably just be fun watching Frank bounce around and be the birthday boy.

Just as he groaned once more at the time, Mikey rounded the corner, face fashioned in confusion and hair sticking up oddly at all angles.

"G, what are you doing? Shift ended 10 minutes ago."

Gerard's eyes widened and he let out an indignant squeak, looking up to check he hadn't misread the clock. Upon discovering that no, he was right, it had only just changed to 15:58, pointed accusingly up at it to direct Mikey's gaze. Mikey didn't even turn his head, simply shook it, and held up Gerard's bag, having retrieved it from the locker room.

"Are you actually serious? That thing has been slow ever since we started here. Come on."

He held up his wrist, offering his own watch as evidence when Gerard came out from behind the counter and took his bag. Gerard wasn't technically supposed to leave his post until someone had come to relieve him, but fuck it; he was already doing overtime apparently. He grumbled all the way to the door.

"I can't believe you didn't even tell me. Sometimes you're a really bad brother, Mikeyway." And then a beat later: "Hey, do you think I can get them to compensate all the overtime I've done by trusting that fucking thing?"

"No" Mikey replied instantly, making his way across the lot. Before Gerard could get over the clock fiasco and judge how close they were to the vehicle, Mikey was already getting in the shotgun seat of Kaye's car. He couldn't even be bothered to argue and dropped himself in the back with another grumble.

"Hey, Ways" greeted Kaye, chirpily. When she received a reply from the younger but not the elder she grinned again and looked in the rear-view mirror. "What's up, GG?"

"Just wondering how I got landed with such a traitorous sibling; the usual." The mistake he made was to meet her eyes in the mirror, immediately feeling his angry façade fall out from beneath him. "Hi, by the way" he mumbled, small smile pinching at his cheeks.

"Hey" she said with warmth, showing off her pearly whites again before dropping her eyes and starting the car.

The ignition triggered the CD player to start up again, spitting out The Smiths at a comfortable volume. Both brothers smiled smugly to themselves. Either they'd enticed her into a bit of the ol' Morrissey infatuation or she kept music in her car that she played specifically while they were around. Either scenario worked out well for them, and when each sang the opening line under their breath, all notions of time-keeping treachery melted away and were forgotten.

She drove back to Belleville firstly, dropping Mikey off at home.

"Sure you don't wanna come to practise, Mikey? Might be nice to have someone else to cheerlead with" she hedged.

Neither of them had watched Gerard at band practise yet, and secretly he was glad when Mikey declined. He wasn't sure he could handle debuting for both of them in the same day.

Gerard decided not to go back in to change out of his work clothes. The session would be a short one, and he felt it too much effort to get changed twice in one afternoon. He did hop out of the car and take Mikey's previous seat, though.

Kaye looked happy not to be looking at him through the barrier of reflective glass, and after another couple of shy 'hey's, they both leant over the gear box and met mouths. Gerard's eyes fluttered shut immediately as he caught Kaye's bottom lip between both of his. They kissed like that for a time, small pecks in greeting, but Kaye was the first to extend her tongue, and reached up to slide her fingers through Gerard's hair. She made a delighted noise in her throat that went straight to Gerard's gut when she found the hair to be soft and clean. Gerard pulled away shortly afterwards, careful not to embarrass himself by getting too excited. They mirrored small smiles for a second or two before Kaye laid her cheek against the headrest and looked up at him through her lashes.

"You're nervous."

Gerard softened and turned away his gaze, embarrassed.

"Yeah, kinda. I just… don't really know what you'll think."

"Well" she smiled, leaning forward to give another peck and lay her forehead against his. "Let's go find out, okay?"

They'd only just finished running through their first song when Frank looked up and saw Gerard walk in, Kaye in tow. He raised a hand in greeting and set to tuning his guitar back to standard. Ray and Matt were already waiting for them in the corner.

"Hey, guys. Sorry we're a bit late, we had to drop Mikey home first."

"No worries" called Shaun, answering for everyone.

Frank pointedly kept his eyes on his strings as Gerard proudly introduced Kaye to those who hadn't met her before. It wasn't anything personal, but they had a limited amount of time today. They didn't usually have the room on a Saturday, but a couple of complications had meant the session on Thursday had to be called off. This was to be a short session – only an hour split between both bands, roughly 40/20 – but it was just enough to calm Pencey's nerves for the time being. They'd been working this ritual of three practises a week for months, and it felt like a pattern that shouldn't be disrupted. This meant that time spent on pleasantries was essentially time wasted. Thankfully everyone else seemed to be on the same wavelength. Kaye, Gerard, Otter and Ray huddled together in one corner, leaving Pencey to get on with flying through their practise.

Frank had always assumed that if Gerard brought his - _...date? Fuck buddy? What the hell sort of title does she even come under?_ – to the practise space he would be entirely too distracted in his efforts to keep her happy. However, as Frank punched through the next song happily, he was pleased to notice that Gerard was just as focused as ever. Maybe it was false in an attempt to impress her, but as long as Gerard was working Frank didn't really care about the particulars of his motivation. It made him feel like some psychotic blend of overbearing parent, pressurising teacher and slave driving employer. It probably wasn't a good thing, and he threw himself into the next song attempting to shake it, closing his eyes to hide from the sight of Kaye looking over at their set and nodding her head along to the beat.

All too soon their portion of the session was used up, and before Frank could even lift the strap of his guitar over his head Ray had leapt forward, pulling Frank's cable from the amp and inserting his own. He tried not to smirk as the bands swapped places, both happy and amused by their enthusiasm. He met Gerard's nervous eyes for a fleeting second as they passed each other. Although Gerard could ignore Kaye's presence whilst in the process of creating, that wasn't the case when it came to performing. Frank could relate to the feeling; revealing something so personal to others was bound to raise your fear of ridicule. Her opinion probably mattered more than most too, which only increased Gerard's nervousness and by virtue heightened Frank's surliness.

However, the only chair left was the one beside her, and he decided to swallow his pride, and not become _that_ guy. There was nothing worse than a friend and your partner not getting along. It caused a stifling atmosphere, and Frank wasn't willing to put Gerard through that grade of awkwardness. Besides, in a contest between Kaye and himself, Frank was well aware that the perky blonde would win out every time; it was best to keep schtum.

"Hey" he mumbled as he lowered himself into the seat.

She was startled by Frank's begrudging effort to strike up conversation, but managed to suppress her surprise down to just a quirk of the eyebrow, answering with a "hey" of her own. When Frank looked back towards the band set-up Gerard was staring back at them with eyes wide and worried, not particularly soothed by the sight of them sitting so close together, like if one had both a pet mouse and a pet cat who'd suddenly decided to snuggle.

"Smile" Kaye mumbled, keeping her mouth as tight as possible so as not to alert Gerard to her instructing Frank to reassure him. "He's nervous enough as it is."

She beamed up at Gerard then, trying to be as encouraging as possible without calling out embarrassingly overenthusiastic phrases such as "go get 'em!" Frank caught on quickly, and although he didn't produce a smile that split his face in half, he gave a short nod along with it, as if motioning for him to carry on. Frank was sort of impressed, actually. She was obviously far more perceptive than she seemed.

"Dare I ask why you have a problem with me?" she enquired quietly, keeping her eyes fixed ahead and not permitting her smile to falter.

Ahead of them, Gerard's band was about to start. Their anxious vocalist tugged on the hemline of his plain navy t-shirt and shook his hair down over his face, probably in an attempt to shield Kaye from his sight. Frank swallowed surreptitiously and kept his voice casual when he replied:

"I don't."

She hummed shortly, as if to demonstrate her scepticism, but left it at that and didn't probe any further. The room fell quiet, and Otter hit his drumsticks together to the count of three to cue Toro to start. Frank had heard them play through the song several times by now, and was no longer plagued by anxiousness on Gerard's behalf, but he kept sneaking small glances at Kaye out of the corner of his eye just to survey her reaction. On the other hand, Gerard stared down at his feet while Ray and Otter played the introductory notes, one hand wrapped tightly around the microphone, other hand twitching once again on his fraying hemline. He took a deep breath, and opened his mouth.

Kaye's eyes widened instantaneously, shocked that such a bold voice could come out of the nervous shell of a man she regularly accepted into her bed. It wasn't that she didn't believe him capable, exactly, but more that she didn't know he had the courage to show her. In all honesty, even though he was belting it out, he still didn't look particularly confident about it; more like he'd already got used to the routine of doing so. His mouth fit easily around the words he'd memorised, and even though it was her first listen and the words sped past too fast for her to memorise them, the snippets of phrases she did manage to catch sounded quite poetic and complex. It made her throat tighten marginally, whether in pride or excitement, and she smiled up at Gerard even though he was still doing everything he could to avoid looking back at her.

Frank's narrowed eyes backed off slightly when he determined her smile to be genuine, and turned his head back to watch, already able to notice subtle improvements between the first practise the trio had attended and the present performance. They flew through the song easily; it was almost second nature to them already. Gerard didn't draw out the last note as long as he sometimes did, instead choosing to cut it short and retreat back into the shell hidden behind his hair. Frank wasn't sure if Gerard had opened his eyes for the entire duration of the song, and it was hard to tell if he was _now_, under the cover of dull auburn locks.

Hambone threw out a cursory whoop, and a couple of claps, but everyone knew that Kaye's presence meant something to Gerard, and the entire room seemed to be holding their breath secretly in anticipation of her reaction. Gerard inhaled deeply, and stepped forward gingerly, head still lowered, making his way over to where she was sitting. Frank sort of felt like he should move, but that would have only highlighted the importance on which Gerard had placed Kaye's opinion, and he was sure that wouldn't help the guy feel any better. He stayed put, fidgeting in his seat and attempting to look casual, staring into space instead of at them.

Gerard lifted his eyes to hers, surprisingly calm. He'd already resigned himself to ridicule, so he was partially prepared to be turned down.

"…What did you think?"

For a hot minute Kaye didn't say anything, merely sat back in her seat and let her cool gaze brush over Gerard's face. It was almost a test, and Frank's fidgeting only increased. Why was she dragging it out so much? Couldn't she see how much he needed her to say she liked it? _If she didn't, she'd better lie well enough to fool a fucking polygraph. _

Eventually she stood up, and cupped Gerard's cheeks in her hands. A warm smile settled over her features and Frank heard the smacking sound of a short kiss before she spoke.

"I had no idea you could do that."

Gerard tried to let out the breath held in his lungs slowly, rather than heaving a massive sigh of relief, and sort of managed somewhere between the two, a slow but loud exhale. He grinned.

"Neither did I, really. So you… you liked it?"

She answered with another couple of loud kisses and threw her arms around the relieved man. The hug was tight and expressive.

"Of course I did. It's like nothing I've ever heard before. I can't believe you thought I wouldn't!"

Gerard didn't reply to that one, merely pressed his face even further into her hair and inhaled deeply, knowing he couldn't spend too much longer in the embrace.

"Have you got more to do?" she asked as she withdrew, snagging one of Gerard's hands as she went.

"We haven't got long left, like 10 minutes or so. We're just gonna quickly run through a couple more ideas. Are you okay?"

"Don't worry about me, Frankie's taking care of me" she quipped brightly, leaving the two men to lock eyes.

Gerard's gaze was questioning. He'd got the impression so far that Frank wasn't really Kaye's biggest fan. In all honesty he couldn't blame him for that, but perhaps if they got to spend a little bit of time together like this things wouldn't be quite so difficult between them and Gerard wouldn't feel like he had to shield himself every time he mentioned her name. To his credit Frank smiled back, and nodded, even though he looked sort of reluctant to do so. He was making an effort, and it showed. Gerard smiled at them both again and squeezed Kaye's hand once before letting go and turning to walk back towards his band, who were clearly already making some progress. The sound of Frank's voice made him turn back.

"That was really great, by the way." Frank wasn't even aware he'd given his mouth permission to move. "You're getting better every day."

The statement made Gerard produce one of those grins that displayed his freaky little teeth, and Frank wanted to give himself a pat on the back for making that happen.

"Thanks" Gerard replied quietly, turning away with the beginnings of a blush upon his cheeks.

Frank extracted a cigarette from his pack and wordlessly extended the box in Kaye's direction, seeing her accept out of the corner of his eye. He passed the lighter her way when he was done, too, keeping his eyes on Gerard and Ray the whole time. They were quietly putting their voices together to try and firm up a vocal melody for a section that would hopefully make it into a new song. Frank's brain went into music-mode and judged that Ray's voice was decent enough to work backing vocals onstage. From what Frank could hear, although his voice wasn't good enough to front a band, he could hit high notes well enough to create a solid harmony with the vocalist. The odds were looking more in Gerard's favour every time he watched them practise. Frank took his lighter back and slid it into his pocket.

"Is that really what you think?" he asked quietly, tone tight with the boldness of his question.

"You really don't think a lot of me, do you?" she chuckled, taking a hit of her cigarette, well aware that Frank wasn't going to confirm anything self-incriminating. "That's not something I'd lie about. I have ears just as well as you do. It's _different_, no doubt about it. And it's nowhere near perfect either. But it's not supposed to be. Nothing about Gerard is perfect."

Frank took a second to wonder whether he should take that as an insult against his friend, but he didn't manage to come to a solid conclusion.

"Besides" she added. "Anything that makes him this happy will never get disapproval from me."

Frank blew his smoke out slowly. As long as she supported him in this, he would continue to make an effort. What had he actually got to be mad at her about? Her and Gerard had obviously agreed about the nature of their relationship, she _did_ seem to make him happy (most of the time), and she was already supportive of his band after hearing them play once.

"It's important to him" he murmured.

"I know that" she replied. "If it makes him happy, it's important to me too."

He turned his head to look at her then. Her eyes were just as cold on him as his were on her, but he figured he'd given her just cause to be suspicious. He lifted the corners of his mouth in a peace offering.

"Then I guess we're cool."

"I guess we are…" she replied in amusement, smile pulling up hard into one cheek.

Frank got up once to retrieve an ash tray, and rested it companionably where the armrests of their chairs met. They watched Ray and Matt correlating a new section in silence for a couple of minutes before Kaye spoke up again.

"Why is it so important to _you_?"

It caught Frank off guard.

"What?"

"Why is supporting this band so important to you? You've insisted they come share your practise space at a fraction of the price they should be contributing-" Gerard had obviously filled her in on a few things. "- you're letting them borrow half your equipment, and you don't even really know them."

She didn't sound suspicious, just intrigued. It was sort of nice to talk about something with her in a neutral, genuinely interested tone. It enticed Frank to let his guard down for a minute or two. It would have been easy just to spout some generic response about remembering what it was like starting out as a brand new baby band without any friends, but that was only part of the reason. He sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette, Kaye's hand steadying the ash tray as he did so.

"I don't know. I know what it's like, for one. It's nice to have some support. But the support is _deserved_, you know?" He turned his eyes to hers. "I see something in Gerard. He has something special. But he needs people to gently kick the shit out of him before he'll do anything about it."

She snorted delicately (_as if that was even possible)_, and inclined her head once as if to indicate she knew what he was talking about.

"He's just so shy, so…"

"He doesn't believe in himself."

"Right…" Frank was mildly alarmed to share an opinion with her, but he rolled with it, sort of glad for the opportunity to affirm to himself out loud why he cared so much. "He doesn't. But he should. He's a great artist, and he got so disillusioned with that after doing it for years that he sort of stopped trying as hard. In the end he was just decreasing his own chances by not believing his stuff was good enough." He took a breath, worried that he wasn't getting his point across well enough. "It's not just sympathy, though. I genuinely saw something in his song, and I guess I just wanted to make him believe it early on so he didn't approach it with the same attitude he ended up with applying for art jobs."

Kaye tilted her head, considering. Frank had no response for what she said next.

"Thank you."

Thankfully he was rescued by Shaun calling out the time, and that they all needed to make a move. He got up from his seat, picking up the ash tray as he moved. Kaye stretched, and bid him goodbye quietly before making her way over to Gerard.

"Might spot you tonight, birthday boy. Just remember that he and I aren't a couple, okay?"

Frank sort of wanted to bite back with 'you are to him!', but he wasn't even sure if that was the case anymore, so he smiled resignedly, and sort of waved as she walked away, wrapping herself around Gerard again.

Kaye dumped her bag in the corner of Gerard's room, and went straight to the desk, where a wodge of paper half her height was piled. She flicked through the first few on top, and then picked up a massive section, lifting it up and looking through a few in the middle.

"I'm not sure I've ever seen so many pictures of Spiderman in one place" she exclaimed. She turned to smile at him. "They look great, babe."

Gerard hadn't even been paying attention, lighting an incense stick, self-conscious of the overwhelming smell of unwashed solitary man, although Kaye was long used to it by now and hadn't complained once. He looked over his shoulder as he spoke.

"What? Oh. Yeah, I know. I got the job."

"Really?" she grinned, spinning around, hands still full of Spidey. "Oh my God! Well done."

She half extended one of her arms to place the sketches back on the desk to go and give him a congratulatory hug, before she really analysed his tone of voice and the look on his face. His inflection had been nonchalant and his expression was blank. What? _He's not excited about working for DC Comics? …Who the fuck is this?"_

He waved his hand dismissively and placed his lighter back on his bedside cabinet.

"Thanks, but I turned it down."

Kaye was wondering what on earth that loud fluttering sound was before she realised that it was coming from the stack of papers she'd let fall from one of her hands. In her right hand she still held the upper half of the pile, but her left had disengaged, and when she looked towards the carpet the mottled orange/brown colour had been replaced by a swarm of red, white and blue. Both sets of eyes settled on the papered floor in silence for a few seconds before Kaye snapped out of her shocked trance.

"Oh God!" She dropped to her knees slowly and began gathering them up, careful not to accidentally fold the corners or rumple the sheets. "I'm so sorry, G, give me a minute."

A short laugh emerged from Gerard and he ran a hand through his hair.

"No, don't worry about it. Leave them. They were only piled up to be taken out for recycling anyway."

Kaye's mouth fell open and she wondered absently whether she'd actually come home with Gerard's weird-ass doppelganger. Or even worse, his _normal _doppelganger. He laughed again at her open-mouthed expression and extended his hand to help her up. She left the second pile in a small tower amidst the paper chaos as she climbed to her feet. They stood together, fingers linked for another minute, simply surveying the floor. It looked kind of cool, Spiderman taking up various stances in protection of Gerard's room. Kaye began to be able to pick out which pieces were drawn earlier and which ones came later, as he had become more and more immersed in the Spiderman style. _No wonder he got the job_ she thought rather frankly. _He's fucking mastered it. _

Eventually she turned her eyes on his face, soft hair tucked back behind his ears. She frowned lightly.

"I don't get it." She watched him look at her, his eyes clear and untroubled. She didn't understand it, but it was certainly a welcome sight. "All you've ever wanted to do is comics. I didn't see you for like two weeks while you locked yourself away to perfect this. Which you did, by the way, they look amazing." He gave a small smile at that. She sighed. "Why did you turn it down?"

"I don't think it's what I want anymore. …I want this band. I have a good feeling about it."

"…You turned down a solid guaranteed job – a job you've been after for years – because you 'have a good feeling' about a very unstable possibility of making it as a band?"

He nodded, face neutral but innocent. He knew how ridiculous it sounded, and he'd been keeping it from everyone to avoid having conversations like this. He told Mikey, of course, but only because his brother reacted just as he'd expected – a scrutinising incredulous raise of the eyebrow, before replying "okay" and spinning back to the computer screen. He expected Kaye to react sceptically. That's what he expected of everyone. He couldn't just say "fuck art" after years of being nothing but 'The Art Guy' and just expect everyone to be on board with it.

To his surprise, she framed his face with her hands and pressed their mouths together. He kept his eyes open, and saw that her own were tightly closed in emotion. It made Gerard's chest flutter as he wondered what emotion those puckered lids were trying to convey.

When she pulled back, she kept her palms on his cheeks and just looked over his face for a second or two. She still didn't really understand why he'd abandon something he'd worked for so long trying to achieve, but even as he stood there letting her scrutinise his face, he looked calm and self-assured. _That's _why she needed to make the effort to accept this new facet of Gerard. Even with his art, something he'd practised for so long and something that by all means he was academically _qualified_ to do, he had never looked so _sure_. Even though he had a great deal more reason to believe in these carefully inked replications, they were cast aside, littering his bedroom floor like autumn leaves past their prime.

He gazed into her eyes, ones that he'd secretly drawn a hundred times over, and found himself testing his memory of her irises - the exact shade of blue; how many flecks in each one – and realised he was overreacting in his preparation for ridicule. His stomach cramped, but she only moved forward again, softly brushing her mouth over his.

His lips began to move of their own accord and his eyes fell shut on instinct, even as he was frantically wondering what this meant. Sliding her hands from his face to link at the back of his neck she started to pull Gerard in the direction of his bed. Papers scattered and crumpled underneath their feet as they shuffled across the room. Kaye's lips were growing even more fevered, nipping at his bottom one and injecting heat straight into his veins, and things were quickly getting out of hand.

Almost as suddenly as she had started, Kaye paused, hands once again on Gerard's face, smiling up at him.

"If you really think this is what you should do, you should go for it."

She waited until the realisation dripped into his eyes before leaping forward once again with a smirk and attaching her teeth to his bottom lip, tugging before grabbing at his hem and pulling his shirt over his head.

Gerard had barely recovered from the shock that Kaye was supporting him – god, she _wanted_ him to do this, and she didn't care about all the perfect Spidermen they were now in the process of trampling - before he found them both topless and his fingers fumbling on the hook of her bra. He started to pant as Kaye made fast work of his zipper and stared up at the ceiling, baffled by his life appearing temporarily so clear and simple.

"Do we actually have time for this?" he asked breathlessly, well aware that she usually liked having adequate time to dress up before a party.

By the time she replied she was underneath him on the mattress, arching her breasts up into the press of his chest. He attached his mouth to her neck and felt her words vibrate under his lips as she gasped out her response.

"I rock the bed hair look."

He simply hummed against her skin in reply and moved his hands to her hips underneath him. Before he could tell which way was up he'd been flipped and his own pelvis was now bracketed by Kaye's bare thighs which had somewhere along the way lost their material barrier. She curled her palms around his wrists and spread his arms wide as she leaned down to speak again, mouth just teasingly out of range.

"Besides, this is going to be fast because I can't wait anymore."

She ground down on him as she said it, and his eyes slipped closed, lips parting just enough to grant air entry as he wondered how the fuck he ever got lucky enough to hook up with this chick. Just as he was getting used to her weight on his dick and becoming antsy for more, all sensation was ripped away as she stood up abruptly. The bed bounced under the dramatic shift of weight, and Kaye wobbled slightly as she lifted each leg in turn to remove her socks. Gerard was baffled as he watched. She made it look so graceful and sensual. When he took off his discoloured bobble-covered socks he looked like an unbalanced whale. A mutant whale with ugly fleshy feet instead of a tail.

Kaye hooked her fingers underneath her panties and slid him a look, poised to remove the last piece of clothing. Satisfied that he was wide-eyed enough, able to imagine the saliva pooling in the bottom of his mouth, she slid them down her legs slowly and stepped out of them before using one foot to flick them onto the floor.

Gerard was still far too clothed for her liking. He was bare-chested and bare-footed, but his jeans gaped open, revealing his straining boxer shorts simply begging for her attention. She was going to grant that wish quickly, no doubt about it. She wasn't sure exactly what it was about this guy that kept her coming back for more. He wasn't the most breath-taking specimen she'd ever seen. As he looked up at her now from where he laid on his back, gravity smoothed out the hills of his chest and stomach. He was definitely carrying a little more weight than he should have been, but it wasn't off-putting in the slightest. His flesh wasn't rippling over the cover of hard muscle, but his skin was of a beautiful pallid shade and was softer against her skin that anything she'd ever felt before. She didn't even know it was possible for a man to feel to smooth and soft. Even where hair covered his legs, it wasn't rough and harsh. He was the most unique lover she'd ever had. And she found herself increasingly needing to have him right that very second.

She sank to her knees, bracketing his legs, and bunched her hands in his underwear, signalling the removal of his two remaining garments. Propping himself up on his elbows he lifted his ass off the bed and let her tug his jeans off swiftly, dumping them on the floor for Spidey to look after.

His dick was hard and leaking, and had she not been so desperate, she'd have lapped up the small beads of liquid that settled on the end and listened to him mewl beneath her. However, she was in far too much of a hurry.

He'd been so determined today, displaying his hunger for the music he was now becoming dedicated to. It had been insanely attractive for reasons she couldn't really decipher. It didn't really matter, she supposed. She needed him inside her, and he seemed only too willing to oblige.

Kaye laid herself over him and kissed him furiously, hand curling tightly over him and stroking as he reached up to caress one of her breasts. She sucked in a hard breath through her nose as he tweaked her nipple, and threw her other arm out in the direction of his bedside table, yanking the draw open, knocking something off – X-men? – as she did so. She fumbled around until her hand hit a box. This would have been far easier if she could see what she was doing, but she was quite keen on the feel of Gerard's tongue in her mouth, so her eyes stayed firmly shut. She probed inside the packet, seizing a condom wrapper between two fingers.

She pulled her mouth away from Gerard's and instead thrust the small packet at his face, getting a kick out of the fact that it was his teeth to rip the wrapper. She rewarded him with three hard pecks on the lips before relocating and rolling the condom onto his dick, gripping it at the base and sliding him straight inside. They both sighed loudly; he blissful to be encased within her wet heat, and her content now that she was full with him. She gave a couple of slow rocks to allow her body to accommodate him before gripping his hands tightly and holding them in front of her, setting a brutal pace from the get-go.

Gerard merely laid back, head pressed stiffly back into the pillow behind him, exposing his throat, as he kept his arms as straight and strong as he could, letting Kaye steady herself as she rode herself out furiously on his cock. She was moving so fast, so hard, her bouncing movements causing her to crash back down onto him, and he realised she wasn't kidding when she said it was going to be fast; he was approaching orgasm already.

"Look at me" came a breathy cry from above him, and he did as she commanded, watching as she angled herself slightly forward so that his dick could stroke her off from the inside as she continued to rock quickly over him.

She kept her eyes trained intensely on his face, whereas his eyes darted from her flushed panting face to her bouncing breasts to the sight of himself disappearing into her over and over. Her breath was coming faster and louder, not only from the exertion of moving so sharply and quickly, but because she was so close to coming it was tantalising. Her eyes slipped closed of their own accord then, her mouth gaping open as she feverishly thanked Gerard in her head. It was rare for her to come at all when practising penetrative sex, but it was even rarer to be able to come before the guy. She found that as a female it was usually better to be the first to crest; that way there was no chance of the useless man falling asleep or getting bored before she had the time to get her rocks off. This usually made up for all of Gerard's short-comings – he never left her wanting afterwards. She whined as she came, eyes screwed tightly shut, letting the buzz settle over her skin like sunshine.

Gerard's stomach spiked at her cry, and he swiftly followed her over the edge as her aftershocks curled hotly around him in tight spasms, groaning shortly as he shot. He let his tired arm muscles fall loose onto the bed, fingers still linked with Kaye's. She lazily rolled her hips to get him through the last of his orgasm until she became too sensitive and whined, taking back one of her hands to hold the condom at the base as she climbed off and collapsed next to him, breathing heavily.

Between shuddering pants she pressed her lips against the skin of his bicep, trying to communicate her gratitude through dry pecks. Gerard was too blissed out to realise that her lips were actually supposed to be silently saying something, but he nodded hazily, hoping that an incline of the head would be enough. It seemed to do the trick as she sighed contentedly, rolling away from him to allow the air to dry the sweat that coated her body. She was going to need a shower now. She'd have suggested Gerard do the same, but she was well aware of the irritated grunt she'd get in reply. She supposed he hadn't had the chance to break much of a sweat this time, though. She had taken control and didn't want it any other way. She fondly watched him slip slowly into slumber and smiled to herself. She'd let him wallow in his own filth for a while longer.


	14. Of Eyeballs and Blunts

**Chapter 14 – Of Eyeballs and Blunts **

Frank stuffed the discarded envelope into a wastebasket and folded the ten dollar note into his wallet before throwing an arm around Shaun's neck.

"Aww, thank you, man. You didn't have to."

"Don't be stupid" Shaun mumbled into his neck. "If I can't give my friend a present on his birthday then my life is pretty worthless."

Frank was touched. Every member of Pencey had fronted at least ten dollars each – Hambone pitched twenty. He knew just how broke every one of them was, and yet they still couldn't let his birthday pass without a gift, however small. He'd actually had quite an impressive haul, considering he'd expected most people were here for the free entry rather than to actually celebrate with him.

Besides, unless they came up to him, Frank had no idea whether he knew the majority of people meandering in masks or not. It was almost cliché, but as far as Frank was concerned Halloween meant costume party, no questions asked. The years hadn't dampened his excitement for the general season.

As a child his father would take him and a couple of friends trick or treating while his mother finished preparing the pumpkin soup and "blood" jello. As childhood became teens he was then permitted a small group over for bobbing for apples and spooky stories, and now he went out with friends in an attempt to find somewhere that would serve him alcohol.

Unfortunately this hadn't been quite successful on the alcohol front. Alex Saavedra had been quite accommodating and even forceful that Frank held his party at Eyeball, but wouldn't go so far as to let him buy drinks. He couldn't wait until this time next year, where he would be free to get drunk off his own back. Especially as he hoped to be touring the US by then. There's no point in being on the road with your buddies if you can't drink.

Money was the easiest present option at Frank's age, and far more practical than strange trinkets that would no doubt sit somewhere collecting dust, but Mikey Way was not a fan of giving money as a gift, claiming it was lazy and he was obviously the better friend for being able to pick out an awesome present by actually giving it some thought. And it certainly was awesome, Frank had to give him that. Mikey had bought a replacement of Frank's favourite Black Flag shirt. His had grown worn and thin, holes growing at each armpit and he'd fought with his Mum for ages over keeping it. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders at the thought that he could now dispose of the old shirt guiltlessly, and appreciated that it must have taken Mikey a good number of hours out of his life to find it to purchase in the first place.

He stowed all of his physical gifts in the back office – keeping a mental inventory, just in case – and wandered back around to the front room, scanning for Alex. Happy to find him nowhere in sight Frank practically leapt over to the buffet table. A bowl of red punch laid in the middle, a hand-shaped iceberg bobbing up and down in the middle. Sneaking looks from side to side he ladled some into a plastic cup and downed it as fast as he could. It wasn't overly alcoholic, but it tasted fruity and sugary and was most certainly better than nothing until the party grew wilder and he could sucker people into buying him beer when Alex wasn't looking. Frank was 99% sure that he wouldn't complain if he saw a drink in Frank's hand, but for the sake of his business he'd kick off if he saw the exchange happen in front of him.

The DJ booth was hooked up to all of Frank's favourite bands – a few of which were on the label and so equalled extra publicity – and people were already beginning to dance, even when their moves didn't fit the fast-paced punk beat.

He was enjoying himself already even though the party had only been going a couple of hours or so. It was nice to see people having fun, and interesting to look over the variety of different costumes. He was just as happy to see the elaborate garments that would have required hours of preparation as he was to see people slinking around in their day clothes with a rubber mask slapped over their face. Frank hadn't put a phenomenal amount of effort in himself this year, simply opting for a one-piece skeleton suit that he'd already spotted a couple of other guests adorning.

Mikey's was a particularly clever demonstration of costume laziness. He was loping around in jeans and a Joy Division shirt – nothing out of the ordinary but for the "Nudist on strike" sign that he had hung around his neck. Frank had snorted and congratulated him once again on being the most inventive bone idle motherfucker he had ever known whilst wondering how the other Way was going to rock up – indeed if he turned up at all.

It was Kaye that he spotted first. Frank was already half-gone so he didn't have the presence of mind to feel weird about stumbling over to her and calling her name like they were best buddies. She was tottering around in heels and a baby pink satin cocktail dress that ended mid-thigh with a black sash around her middle. As she span around Frank had to do a double take. Used tissues were balled up both in her fists and the front of her sash and her eyes seemed to be bleeding with smeared make-up.

"Whoa whoa Kaye, you okay?" he cried, hand closing over the corsage around her wrist as he strained to call into her ear. "What's happened? Where's G?"

She chuckled and looked to her companions in amusement – mostly male Frank noticed upon second glance.

"I guess my costume's pretty convincing then, huh?" she laughed, itching at one eye lightly with a nail so as not to disturb the cosmetics that were caked there.

"What?"

"I'm a stood-up prom date, dipshit."

"Oh." _Oh._ He removed his hand from her wrist. "Yeah, it's- it's good."

"I didn't bring you a gift" she said, shrugging apologetically. "But you can have this instead, yeah?" she grinned, pushing her mostly-full beer bottle into his hand. "Cool party, Frank."

"Yeah." He shook his head as if to clear the drunken mist that had settled. "He's here though?"

"No need to fret, pumpkin, he's around."

"Cool."

It only occurred to him as he was walking away that he should have probably thanked her for coming. And for the beer bottle he wrapped his lips around as he scanned the room, nodding in greeting when people waved or beckoned him over.

He found Gerard huddled in a corner with a bottle of his own, bracketed either side by Shaun and Mikey. Frank's face cracked into an unashamed grin as he grew nearer and he began to realise that he wholeheartedly considered Gerard as a friend now. He wasn't just that kid in the new band Frank was helping out in the interest of the local scene, but Gerard was actually his friend, one who he missed in his absence.

Gerard had put in marginally more effort than his sibling; wearing old clothes that he had ripped and dotted with blood, splashing some over one side of his face. Frank had no idea what he was supposed to be but he was into it.

"Hey, look who it is!" cried Shaun, throwing an arm out for Frank to collapse into, smiling at the two brothers.

"Happy birthday, Frank" Gerard said with a timid smile. He'd managed to only just raise his voice to be heard above the music but the small smile was sincere. Suddenly his facial expression changed and Gerard drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "Wait. You turned 20?"

Frank nodded, sucking the last from his bottle.

"Oh my god" Gerard cried, a little outraged. "I've been supplying you and you're underage."

The other three all burst into laughter, and Frank moved, reaching up on tiptoes to hook his arm around Gerard's neck.

"And you're gonna keep doing so, too!"

"What?"

"You get me a present?" Gerard shook his head, a little wide-eyed. "Then go buy me a beer."

Gerard shook his head, a little dazed and wandered over to the bar. While he was gone Frank enthused to Mikey once more about how much he appreciated his present and the two of them made Shaun attempt to take a drink of punch with his vampire fangs in, cackling like hyenas when he predictably spilt the majority of it down his crisp white shirt. Frank shot Gerard a grateful grin when he returned with the drink, raising it as if in toast as Alex caught his eye across the room.

The evening passed pleasantly, with Frank feeling quite popular for once, especially once the offers to buy him drinks increased. Alex held an impromptu costume competition in which Mikey was awarded second place for being sneaky and Frank was dragged onto the makeshift dance floor multiple times by werewolves and Frankenstein's monsters he didn't recognise. He stuck pretty close to Gerard throughout, even as the older boy got progressively withdrawn and edgy.

At one point a group of girls collectively dressed as catwoman turned up who seemed to know who Frank was, even if this knowledge was not mutual. He assumed that they frequented Pencey shows and just sort of smiled tightly when they sang happy birthday to him. Hambone meandered over and elbowed him in the side, wiggling his eyebrows. The group had drawn a good majority of the male attention in the room but Frank made his excuses and narrowly escaped one of them grinding up against him. He ducked over to the buffet table and ran a hand through his hair, amused and a little overwhelmed.

He took a moment to eat a bit of the cake someone had procured for the occasion and watched his bandmates attempting to dance. It was a pretty hilarious sight. Looking around, his eyes landed on Gerard. He was on the opposite side of the room with his arms crossed, mouth set in a stern line before abruptly pushing off the wall and making his way for the exit. Frank followed. He waved dismissively at Mikey, who had begun to move from the embrace of one of the catwomen – _I've got this. _

He sped up his strides but was relieved to find Gerard still hovering outside the building as opposed to making an actual break for it. He looked agitated, running a hand over his face and looking down at his feet. Frank tucked his hands in his pockets.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"…So you never told me what you are."

Gerard looked up, smiling a little.

"I don't know, really. A victim of some kind?" he supposed, pulling at his bloodied torn sleeve. "Mikey's was great, huh?" Gerard grinned.

"It was really something. …And also nothing" Frank laughed awkwardly.

There was silence for a beat as Gerard looked back down at the floor.

"You not trying your luck?" Gerard asked in reference to the group of girls in faux leather catsuits.

"Nah. I prefer the dark and brooding type."

A small smile played around Gerard's lips but he didn't look back up. When he reached up to pinch the corner of his eyes Frank reached into his pocket, retrieving the baggie someone had slipped him as a present earlier on.

"You got any skins?"

Gerard looked up and a small smile flashed over his face before delving into his own. He passed two cigarette papers over wordlessly and tore a strip off his pack with his teeth, rolling it up. Gerard stood by with the roach while Frank constructed the blunt.

"So" Frank began as he started to sprinkle the weed. "What's the matter?"

Gerard sighed, handing over the small tube when Frank beckoned with his other hand.

"They kept fucking staring at me."

"It's a costume party" Frank said as he held in his first inhale. He let it out, letting his eyes slip closed for a second as the first hit settled in his system. "Of course people will stare."

"Not like that" Gerard said agitatedly, reaching for his turn. "Because of Kaye."

_Well what a fucking surprise_ Frank felt like saying.

"She was dancing with some guy earlier, right?" Gerard started. "I don't care. I actually don't give a shit, she can dance with who she wants."

Frank kept his eyes on Gerard as they swapped again, and he seemed sincere.

"But everyone kept fucking looking at me. Pointing and whispering. Smirking like I was about to lose my shit." Gerard took another toke and rubbed over his face, a little harder than before. "They wanted me to. They wanted me to lose it, and break down, and make a scene. People _like_ that; fucking drama. It gets them off."

Frank kept silent, for he knew it was true. Personal drama kicking off in public always drew a crowd, whether it was in the form of an overzealous argument between a couple or a fight breaking out. He had no doubt that several people in that room would have loved to see Gerard try to intimidate some dude over Kaye. Especially as they knew he'd probably fail.

"They're vampires" Gerard said quietly, putting the smoke back between Frank's lips. "Fucking vampires."

Frank regarded him for a second through the haze. On impulse he flipped the joint around in his mouth and moved in, cupping Gerard's cheeks and pulling his face down towards his own. Gerard's hands shot up immediately to grip onto Frank's wrists, eyes tightly shut, and he inhaled deeply when Frank puffed the smoke his way. They stood like that for a few minutes more, swapping the dwindling joint over and doing blowbacks until they'd burnt it down to the roach. Frank flicked it away and rolled his head around on his shoulders, pleased with the comfortable fuzzy feeling.

He slid a hand into Gerard's hair, probably gripping at the roots a little tighter than he should have done.

"You're better than them. You're better."

Gerard held Frank's stare evenly for a moment before reluctantly nodding.

"Good" Frank said, letting his arm fall heavily back down to his side where his fingers snaked their way into Gerard's hand. "Now come back inside. We need to tell Alex you're starting a band."


End file.
